One Day at a Time

Sweet friend, I will part the curtain of black hair and let you
Into the white garden of my breast.
But I fear you will despise me and not look back when you go away.
I am so beautiful and so white that the lamp-light faints to see my face,
And God has given me for adornment my heavy black hair,
---Last night my kisses drowned in the softness of black hair,
And my kisses like bees went plundering the softness of black hair.

The last few days seem to have dragged out for ages. Less than a week ago the thought of kissing P was an idle fantasy; now it is an easy reality. I have somehow got from Boston to London but I can’t remember what flight I took. I enjoy being in London though and could stay here quite a while.