lost in the fields of your hair I have never lost myself
enough to lose the path I was meant to take;
Breathless next to your body I could not exhaust
the will that forbade me to contract, make vows
or promise, and often while you slept
I looked with reverential fear beyond your beauty.

Now
I know why many men have stopped and cried
halfway between the loves they leave and those they seek,
and wondered if the journey takes them anywhere:
the horizons maintain the soft line of your cheeks,
the windy sky is a medallion for your hair.

before sleep a little romance doesn’t hurt
thanks Leonard