What would I give to
Wake to the morning sun upon
The landscape of your skin;
Or steal a glance from pretend work
To see you absorbed in
What you are doing; better yet
Wait for you at the end of the day
Get a beer and then take the
Last train, and we’d watch the
Lonely night fly by while
I rest my head on your chest and
Hold you tight, and you’d run your
Fingers through my hair and smile.
What would I give.