Anam Cara

Nothing Else Matters

From you

I don’t want anything new

no more gifts

nor the scent of landscapes

rising to fill us,

no bouquets of insight

left by my head

in the tenderness of morning,

no intoxication

of thoughts that open horizons

where rooms are low,

nor the sever of spring

under the grid of old words

that has set on our skin,

nor my favorite blue,

the cobalt

colour of silence.

No.

All I want

is your two hands

pulsing in mine,

the two of us

back in a circle

round our love.