Climb the steps to your unswept hall
where many clandestine romances passed before ours,
leave damp sneakers at the door
on mornings when rain cuts the fog.
Hear this half-white mouth,
form sounds of home.
Hold these warm-blooded hands
that catch cold in nervous sweat.
Take me to the place
where you walked with your father as a child.
Show me the color
of a sea of wintered lotus.
Let love be a thing
free of labels, fears or dreams,
grow closer in the passage of the invisible
space only you and I could have filled.