Because She Thought Of Me Poem by Robert Rorabeck

At the window the pretty flowers
Underneath the airplanes:
It rained all evening, but she came to
Me: and we made love,
We made love, we made love;
But she is back home again,
Though she promises very soon to be
With me,
And I think of her in the lion’s mouth,
And I think of her in the sea:
Tossed through her wild nights
In which I rhyme for her-
In which I rhyme for her-
And she thinks of me: underneath the
Ceiling fans of her slender room,
And the man there who has never
Properly loved her;
She told me her father put a gun to
Her mother’s head in Mexico,
But it will be alright- alright,
Because the stars are falling-
And I love her,
Jewel of honey- insect of nectar stings:
And she doesn’t forget who I am,
Even as she meets her day faultlessly,
And my words come as the pretty happenstance
Of the garden she grew because she
Thought of me.