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I will come for you
I'll come for you
when the sun gets low, feet slapping
along the dust of your road and my skirt hitched high,
and swaying like the willow.
I'll whistle twice and throw a stone, draw you down,
like the moon, from your window,
gather you to me
and never let go.
We'll rumba, maybe samba, up a storm and dance
till we're wet as dogs and laughing-sore
and you haul me in
to warm by your fire.
And it's there, shedding years
like shivers of rain, that we'll kiss
for the first
and the longest time.
