I love you on this grey day
in the gathering weft of tears
on the slate where I chalk my joys,
your skin, the stayed lances
of the nervous natives you passed,
your chestnut eyes that today
I don't mistake for distrust
no, today I see them only reaching
to touch my eyes.
On this grey day I love you
with whatever must pass
in the mingling of joys and tears
on an equator, in a cardinal flash.
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