Love Poem

This might be my all time favorite love poem. The last stanza is simply perfect. 

Somewhere I have never traveled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
In your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which I cannot touch because they are too near

Your slightest look easily will unclose me
though I have closed myself as fingers,
You open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully, mysteriously)her first rose

Or if your wish be to close me, I and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

Nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

I do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

E.E. Cummings

I know, I know. It's all mushy and sappy and gushy, but I can't help but love it. 

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