I will come for you

I'll come for you

when the sun gets low, feet slapping

along the dust of your road and my skirt hitched high,

and swaying like the willow.

I'll whistle twice and throw a stone, draw you down,

like the moon, from your window,

gather you to me

and never let go.

We'll rumba, maybe samba, up a storm and dance

till we're wet as dogs and laughing-sore

and you haul me in

to warm by your fire.

And it's there, shedding years

like shivers of rain, that we'll kiss

for the first

and the longest time.

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