As Thou Sleepest

Only light departs with the sun:
Holding thee, as sleepest thou,
Though quiet joy, is joy enow.
The day hath scarce a greater one,
Unless it be to hold thee close
When sun is up, and all can see
How much thou meanest, love, to me.
Thy nearness leaves no room for prose.

Holding thee, as thou dost sleep,
I hardly dare myself to breathe.
Thou smilest, and peace doth wreathe
My heart, that once was used to weep.
I do not need the light of sun:
My light is thee when day is done.

—Calafia
11/3/1975