Walt Whitman

[butterflydreaming]

Because she loves the poet, I learn
that his poetry sings in color
When speaking it to me, repeating
with an adoring voice, her favorite lines
the fragrant music, beautifully adorned
comes dancing, and takes me dancing

So magnified by the lense of another soul
the cherished phrases, suffused with grace
shine a novel, kaleidoscopic light
And those pages, growing mold in the dark
those verses unremarked by me
become discovered delight

Breath passed like a kiss across a year, a hundred
Sighing together, she who loved and I,
given this gift of love, and he
the poet
holy kiss, deep with passion
words on pages: his words, her words, now mine.