Since I was somewhat still young,
I've often thought of the few
Lives to which my thoughts return—

Growing much more comfortable
And mostly intimate than
I had been before or since
The time we met, when I had
Only the one idea
Of being us together.

We search and yearn like a rose
From the ground, until the wind
Cools as the dust drifts, showing
Life—nothing else on the ground
To dance with the bright flower
Except for the waving grass.

Through the conversation that
We had between us two, she
Told me, "I'd let you go out.

"You can have your desire to
Open the skies with lightning
And patient perseverance"
Then I told her, "I had to
Be more honored to meet you
Once again; as such we lived."

Then the stars turned over, so
Two lightning bolts dashed at each 
Other, like two birds before
A garden—striking the pink
Flora and flashed over it,
Like a persevering hawk.