And Tonight

And tonight he would take a poem to bed -
remove his glasses and let her be blurred -
he'd trace her with his fingers and she'd shed 
her form, her meanings, all titles conferred.

And tonight he would read her with his lip,
turning her being into a warm whisper.
And tonight he would all the darkness sip,
leading himself to the light that is her.

The wind will be hitting the windows and
Time would stand holding a golden lantern -
and tonight he would his existence hand
to a poem to forget himself and learn.

And tonight he would take a poem to bed,
listen as he speaks the forever unsaid.