I think I’ll take a walk down the garden path
to find myself a shed behind the weeds and grasses
and glowing in the window the light of a paraffin lamp
and crackling in the corner the embers in the old stove.
And in that hut I’ll sit and while away the night sky,
burning the stars in their sockets through to morning,
writing the words that of this mind make a code
and of this night make a new poem, a love poem for you.