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Love Letter

When did I kiss you good-night,
glide over your skin, breathe the scent of your hair?
How long since I lay in the new light

beside you? I've wondered if you might
remember the flannel pajamas we would share __
you wore the pants, I, the top -- beginning the night.
You and I, together -- only right.
My every motion, every car
was you. You were simply light
which stroked warm bright
textures of a masterpiece so rare __
until that night

you told me of her. I lost sight
of you in the early morning. I did not dare
leave you in the daylight,
unable to fight
an opponent that unfair.
If you want me, need me -- day, night __
1'1c/ ome when you turn on the light.

JUlie Ann Elliott' 87

The First of April

On April Fool's day, the crocuses finally bloomed.
Brown patches of winter-dried grass
now flaunted tiny purple flowers.
Avoiding puddles of still-melting March snow,
you picked one, stealing the half-clenched beauty
before its full debut.

I forgave you, and put the bloom in water,
hoping it would live, though it was so frail.
That day you told me you loved me,
as we walked, searching for more crocuses.
And I felt I was like those just bloomed flowers,
who had waited so long for the sun.
I thought, this year, the crocuses will last.

By May, the brown patches were drowned in green, d
the crocuses had all died, including the one I had save ,
and you changed your mind,
leaving me cold in the warmer sun,
April's fool.

Karen M. Rex '87
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