I don’t want Spring rain
With her wild tresses
Barging in.
Don’t invite that bacchante
Who dances
Upon a million glass slippers—
Who’s drenched and
Filled with darkness
And so noisy, Love;
Let’s go somewhere quiet
Where I can wish
My love were perfect,
Curl up by the fire
With the cat
And bedroom slippers
While I paint our dreams
With water colour words
And drowsy whispers.
