Prompt: write a love poem.
My addition: after Miklos Radnoti
And still I cannot write about you.
How can I write you a love poem,
while you’re sitting right there in the living room,
legs stretched out in the reading chair,
in the spring cloud-
light skutting over the cold Hudson?
Our home is often drenched in a reassuring silence,
the gravity of your concentration
pulling me earth-ward from the buzzing hum
that keeps driving me dawn to dusk.
And, how can I not write about you,
you, who have become my life?
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