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.