More (a poem) by the late Tim Hardin:
For Susan
Just as I listen to the
sounds in the air I,
hear only you if that's where
I'm looking -
in you, of you, about you
for and with you
are my reasons and
response
and
in you is the one long
span of everything
and
the one short length
by which all can be divided
Thinking of you at dawn
the wind seemed to lick
the hill
soft and powdery licks
to my skin -
I return the wind's
romance
and caress the thoughts
I put you in
and in the moving air
begins a dance
then the minutes passing into
daybreak - then your mouth,
and kissing - like the wind
but more still
I see innocence
you turn to show me
and
your face holds the
sophisticated secrets
a courtesan plays
the virgin
and
the harlot are
one woman to
me
and
other subtler facets
that colour what I see
have part of you
and
you are all to me
How frail your senses
to such a texture of
life in its being so much
applied to that balance and reaction
I love you
I love thee
and yet -
kiss me biting
move against me
hard
hard
and yet
so frail
and yet feeling all of
how hard we're moving
the sharpness and searing
of kiss from softly to
the screaming of the
same
kiss
I love thee
I love you -
