i remember a morning when
you asked if
you could go, too
you were soft and i was soft
it was softly early long before
the midday heat
and the breeze was blowing my skirt
almost as if i could smell
the fresh morningly
so clearly green was the grass

and your face was soft
gently voiced in the breeze
why, even the shadows were those early ones
the opposite of sunset shadows
why, these spoke of the dawnly sky sighing
and the breeze was scented with the promise of daylight
behind the shadows and you asked
if you could go, too

it was softly that I loved you then
with the morning between us
past the dawn gently
and the quiet brand newness sang
thoughtfully of our love
almost as if I had grown other wise
and you were the other.
wisely you asked, almost as if
you had grown love wise
and i were the love

why, as morning begot morning
soft begot soft
and gently begot gently
because you wanted to go too

why, even the breeze was gentled to seek
other gardens and other muses
and other mortals and other gods
because you loved me
and on that day newborn
you asked if
you could go,

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