This is a poem about a woman who I love: the poem is called “P.S., I Love You.”

There was a girl that I once kissed, Betwixt a time, sorrowful bliss, Which once I thought to describe doom, Forsaking autumns, winters, moon, Or sun or stars or kindred night, But long before, impoverished light, She never left me without love, Nor never ending flights of doves, Here gentle waters, gentle place, Was never answered as a space, That called to me, from you anew, The mystic newness, morning dew, That cooled my spirit, as my heart, Your never lost, I never start, Or beg or ask of the dismay, I never kept that anyway, I would not blink, I would not see, To your eyes only I was free, From all be now, as all, above, My sweet P.S., a light, a love.