Thrift store poetry

The day gone or going
we'll bus from room to room
and I'll protest the eyes of furniture or flowers
or anything that looks at you but me.

I've drawn your face on tablecloths across the country.
tracing your smile with my index finger,
making your hair just so.
Till now your more what I want you to be than what you really are.

My hair is almost white from lying in the sun.
I'm tired of being next to you just to engineer a tan.
I would be the same man pale.

Trees are monuments to God,
cities monuments to man.
I need to meet my God again
among the ferns and trees.
There's too much me in my life now
and not enough of Him.

I buy you necklaces you never wear
to show how much I care
I might as well have brought you bouquets of this air
for crystal beads can't fill a woman's needs.
And where are we now, where are we now?
A thousand miles apart.
What have we now, what have we now?
Not even love enough to break each other's hearts.

I've saved the summer
and I give it all to you
to hold on winter morning
when the snow is new.
I've saved some sunlight
if you should ever need
a place away from darkness
where your mind can feed.
And for myself I've kept your smile
when you were but nineteen
till you're older you'll not know
what brave young smiles can mean.