They call me single now: I have no wife
I have a ringless finger, and my heart
feels empty, but I want to share my life
with you, because my poetry is part
of who I am. I want you for my muse
Come hide your beauty well within my verse
Between your beauty and yourself, I’d choose
your self. Your skin’s a play. Let’s go rehearse
If I could make a lyric with your name
I’d write a sonnet, volta would be bliss
to turn from words to song and sound the same
I’d turn my face to yours and take a kiss
Come kiss this single man and I am yours
True love may end, but poetry endures,