The night has rooms
of breath and presence.
There are gardens
where silence
is a nightingale.
There are alcoves
where we can pause
to be each other.
You lead me inwards
into a bud of twilight,
an enfolding
of our living-space.
Within my eyes
You wash
the ruby blossoms
of passion.
The Night Garden: Roberta Weir (C)
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