Let her, if you have any heart--
Let her stay by the window;
Such a small sky, and her time so short.
Do you love her?
Still? Like this?
And, do you love me,
Your round glass girl, dying for the coffee, dying for the dark?
Nothing is more constant,
or more inconstant
than the Sky.
"Come," it says.
Then, when the Earth turns, it is like wine in a tipped glass;
It spills, spreads, forgets.
Go chase down the dawn, Sir Knight.
She and I will fade here, demurely, like spinsters;
But come back tonight,
Find us together in a way you can never understand--
and once again
And, one more from Mexican Moon...