A poem about love
(Written by E.E. Cummings)
Somewhere I have never travelled
Gladly beyond any experience
Your eyes have their silence
In your most frail gesture
Are things which enclose me
Things I cannot touch
Because they are too near
My love
If like a door
Your wish be to close me
I' in my life will shut
Ever so carefully, gently
It is the heart of this flower
That like the snow
Carefully descending
I do not know what
It is about you
That opens or closes
Only that something in your eyes
is deeper than all roses.
No one, not even the rain has such small hands.
