And the stars shone, and the earth unstoppered
its perfumes, the garden gate scrinched
open, footsteps lisped along the path
and they were hers, and she was mine.
And my hand shook the more slowly
I unwrapped and dawdlier I kissed her,
and her aromas rose, and the hour fled,
which is the way with hours.
And I've unveiled myself of any hope,
and death's steps rasp along the path,
and, like any star, I have nothing
to burn but the life I love.
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