Heaven Is Not Like Flying

Lose Something Every Day. Accept The Fluster Of Lost Door Keys, The Hour Badly Spent. The Art Of Losing Isn't Hard To Master.

Even Losing You (the Joking Voice, A Gesture I Love) I Shan't Have Lied. It's Evident The Art Of Losing's Not Too Hard To Master Though It May Look Like (write It!) Like Disaster.

Close, Close All Night The Lovers Keep. They Turn Together In Their Sleep, Close As Two Pages In A Book That Read Each Other In The Dark. Each Knows All The Other Knows, Learned By Heart From Head To Toes.

All The Untidyactivity Continues, Awful But Cheerful.

Time To Plant Tears, Says The Almanac. The Grandmother Sings To The Marvelous Stove And The Child Draws Another Inscrutable House.