It’s not easy to write a poem for you when you keep staring at me like that. I can’t keep my eyes on anything but you. I keep looking for a metaphor, a simile, anything, but all your eyes remind me of are eyes, and all your lips remind me of are lips. Eyes to see, and lips to speak, What more could anyone ask for? But now you look me in the eye and speak, reminding me of the rest of you. You take the words right out of my mouth.
8 April 1976