I-know-you-know that you can make me feel --
Your shoulders ask for tender stroking hands,
Your lips still keep the imprint of my lips --
You are a wistful willow by my lake.
You make me hold reflections of your lips,
On water, write your letter 'double-u,'
And feel your drying, drying thirst of leaves --
I'm full with rain, and rain will fall on you.
You make me write, with ripples, double 'l'
And with the spurts of rain, your letter 'i.'
I'm, by your roots of rustling silver bells,
Imprinted with the hunger of your eyes.