A Thousand Branches
by: W. Dire Wolff 1997

There isn’t any rain
It’s always sunshine
Tears are like daydreams
That never come true
Burnt by constant light
Constant beauty
Constant moments with you
I touch your lips upon mine
And carry you like a dozen roses
Draped across my arms
Up the staircase
Place you down
Gently
Gently on your bedsheets
Clean, pressed, new, they waited
Like you and me
For each other, as we pass into the night.