soft and tender rain clings to my skin
slight and distant pain stings in the fold

radial shimmer contradicting linear shadows
on the walls in the start of fall

could you tell that my want was all
when i looked into the pale sapphire, gold-speckled, steel-ore (of you)

do you know that ‘babe’ means something more
than a passing, unimportant term of false endearment

but in the stillness of the room, be there movement
soft utters of the word standing in solid reverence

of a small series of words that mean light and tenderness
for you. it takes some breathing;
                                                    could you let the light in?