First cold hands, then warm you
Like a front’s coming

Soon sheets of macrolove
Envelope me and you

See, see? See how
Showers of microkisses
Fly up from you to me
Defying gravity
Fat raindrops falling
On your body
As though rustling
On a thin gold foil

And so I end this poem thus
Prodding in old familiar places
Groping through your newer graces

/* ]]> */