I want to memorize your face
the way it looks the moment
you tell me how the morning glories
have pushed through the earth
in that corner of the garden
where we walk in the morning.
I want to capture it, a picture,
hold it up for all to see
like a birthday balloon on a crimson ribbon
or a mirror I can step into.
It will be mine, your face
not to imply ownership, never that
and Iím free to fly to the light
that illuminates your face, your eyes.
All the Unpretentious Words