The first think I thought of was this poem:


As We Are So Wonderfully Done With Each Other



As we are so wonderfully done with each other

We can walk into our separate sleep

on floors of music where the milkwhite cloak of childhood lies

oh my love, my golden lark, my soft long doll

Your lips have splashed my dull house with print of flowers

My hands are crooked where the spilled over your dear curving

It is good to be weary from that brilliant work

It is being God to feel your breathing under me

A water glass on the bureau fills with morning…

Don't let anyone in to wake us



~Kenneth Patchen