From September 2016.
Woman Well Past Forty
Woman well past forty,
I love you like those cool
before the sun becomes
rude in its insistence.
I love you like the reddening leaves
of the trees I call by the names
of the churches they stand next to:
the St Agnes tree, the Unitarian tree.
I love you as tired bones love rest
at the end of a long hard day.
I love you like pizza and pasta.
I love you like cheese ravioli.
I love you like Sunday dinner
with cheap red wine.
I love you like Van Morrison's "Moondance."
I love you like those yesterdays
whose tomorrows were always better.
I love you like coffee in pajamas
on the porch at first frost.
I love you like breakfast
at the Sunnyside Diner:
I love you like the foreseeable surprise
of November’s first snowfall.
I love you like the clamor of the city
that hushes to something like awe
every Christmas Eve.
I love you like Dylan Thomas.
I love you like Trappist monasteries.
I love you like suffering.
make room for me.
I'll be a good and gentle-tempered guest.
I'll help with the housework.
I'll do the dishes.
I'll make you a cup of hot chocolate.
Poetry by Thomas DeFreitas
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Written on 2018-10-14 at 08:24
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