my lips kiss thee

one week from today in the annals of time,

the twenty-fifth of April, i shall be one year older
and to proffer from this i shall say
to the wrinkles on my brow and to
the sag of skin where once the vanity
of youth had muscularity derived ,
my mind is still curious and non-sated 
consuming every moment ever so tenderly
and most gracefully  

still i bathe in the portentous waves in the sea 

and shall until my step no longer moves forward
or my hands no longer feel, or mine eyes can
no longer see the beauty of the night and day
and the eyes and hair of my lover so if i have to 
i shall request books in brail or a voice to read
the words of poets while music plays

i shall ask for the waft of flowers to always be

by my bedside with the window open so i can
hear when the morning comes from the song of
birds cheering the sun to rise and although i’ll
probably not sleep much for the fear of not waking
when the time comes that i must close mine eyes
to sleep and dream the dreams of all who left
before me, i shall ask a favor of thee, kiss softly
my lips, my lovely, so i can take thee with me