This poem creates a wonderful picture of a dear loved one.

Starved 4 Passion

I would find his clothes
scattered on the floor, sometimes
perched on a chair or dresser
like a skylark, singing
of its nervous Spring love,
and I thought of Billy and
his blithe spirit and how
he always was fielding my love
like it was a softball, popped
easily into the outfield
but carelessly dropped,
so that runs and runs and runs
scored against me
while, artfully, he laughed.

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