I would have liked a smile, not
Attached to a face (though lips
In a pale lake, the creamy neck
And the long, thin frame are,
Perhaps, unaccessory) but
The moment of a thought,
Like the fire on which
The tablet is wrought or...
No, but something warm and bright,
Something beautiful exposing its own skin,
As if the gates of the garden -- or these words:
'I have been expecting you. Please, come in.'
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