Into Your Eyes Poem by Robert Rorabeck

How these poems will not be remembered,
Half written- semi-delectable:
Will they be remembered by periods of such great muses
The world will never think to know beyond their bodies passing
Of brown skin across the soft and verdant snow:
Should I not be given a name to defeat the pagan vines of
Rome,
To ignite the months of rain- Let them know at least that my last
Muse was the most fortunate,
And that I was with her and as true to her as the most incidental airplanes
Are to the sky:
That I kissed her lips so many times through the parks of our many
Days,
And I drowned myself into her eyes until the gravity took us away
Together:
Alma, I drowned myself into your eyes today,
And it doesn’t matter if anyone else in the world cares to remember.