Love Poem

There is nothing timid or meandering about my love for you,
it does not head to the shop
for a bottle of milk and a newspaper
only to find itself in town,
browsing at umbrellas and suit jackets.
Although it does notice camellia trees,
the recently pruned climbing roses.

My love for you is not a walk in the park,
although we may, in love, walk in the park.
This love I have for you
is not off the cuff, or impromptu,
which is not to say that my love for you is rehearsal
and performance.

Nothing about it is calculated or expected,
it was not written in the sky
or the sandy fields by the beach,
if it was written anywhere,
it would be on the pathway
next to the pool,
between our bodies,
as we lie there, drying.
Dipping out fingers in the water
and leaving wet notes for each other.
Chlorine in our hair.
Skin baking on the concrete.
Almost warm enough to get back in.