From evening fog below the yellow light
Of my lamp that guards the house that was mine,
A voice pitched to reach me through weighted night
When it turned my face back by stuck neckline.

Like time that stops when it's felt suddenly,
In the space the encroaching cloud allowed,
I found you, leaning and there already,
The two and your smile sung waves through the crowd.

Into dreams this scene does not shepherd me,
But poetry gives consciousness its weight.
Tones will design, tempos contrive jointly;
I'll turn where your pearls to your pipes dictate.

And you will be my creature without sleep,
For you will make free worlds more real than sheep.