9.22.2003

Happy Monthsary...

...to the woman of my dreams and of my reality.

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this, in which there is no I nor you
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand
so intimate that when you fall asleep it is my eyes that close.

~ Sonnet 17 by Pablo Neruda


Bowling Date. Taken at our spontaneous Coronado Lanes night out last 9/20. Photo courtesy of Jon. See related story.