Precious is the value of things
Laying down in silk
Folding each crease between your fingers
As the light summer wind blows lazily
On the floral window blinds.
An old tuned radio floats in,
Blending with traffic
That beeps and yells and screeches
Intermittently, unsymetrically
And my smile reaches across
The ancient carpeted room,
Parts threadbare,
Parts so coiled around this scene
That our precious breath
Falls together in romance.