Through The Hearts Of Her Fair Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I spend a day without loneliness,
And I can finally be comfortable with someone who
Can take me away,
Even though I go to the movies and theatre hop in
The afternoon:
It was supposed to rain, but it doesn’t rain, and that is
The happiest consistency:
I have miss planted flowers in my shade, who need
The sun;
And other things that burn that way: the airplanes leap
At the starting gun,
And stewardesses fair through the zephyrs of late summer
Air,
Even though I am going to bed without a Christmas tree.
Tomorrow I will get up early and buy Cuban coffee
And Danishes,
And take them straight to where Alma, my soul lives,
In the midways beating through the hearts of her fair.