Quick hearts beat fast,
a face framed with saucers,
you are the author
of all that’s past.
Future tales will last;
speak to me like Chaucer,
words permanent, embosser
make me your company, your cast.
Squeak to me,
my patient heart longs;
become my bee,
create sweet honeyed tongues
Sirens call me
with ultrasonic love songs.
