Nancy,
my willowy wife,
is a lovely, tall lady,
nearly six feet
when we wed.
Shorter now,
as am I,
but not by much,
and there, still,
is her road,
near twenty inches long,
two of my hand spans,
a lingering at either end,
from the center
of her soft cleavage
to the middle of her
amber triangle
where this man
has wandered,
speaking in tongues,
wishing to never be seen
again.

And I have loved that road,
and my journeys on it
between heaven
and her warm-tide-sea.

Nancy,
I pray to wonder there
with thee,
in passionate nights
and gentle dreams,
until my solid world
melts into mere
liquid memory
while Heaven creates
the luxury
for whatever is left of me,
to remember.