We spoke about this city being the size of our neighbourhoods back home and yet I doubt we will meet again. Your eyes were green with flecks of blue close to the rim or am I imagining it? It’s entirely possible, not because I want to make things up, but because it was the first happy conversation I’ve had all day, this conversation about nothing, really, that loosened the knot in my throat. I only said goodbye before I got off the bus, but I should have said thank you. For the ease of it.
here’s to opening and upward,to leaf and to sap
e.e. cummings
here’s to opening and upward,to leaf and to sap
and to your(in my arms flowering so new)
self whose eyes smell of the sound of rain
and here’s to silent certainly mountains;and to
a disappearing poet of always,snow
and to morning;and to morning’s beautiful friend
twilight(and a first dream called ocean)and
let must or if be damned with whomever’s afraid
down with ought with because every brain
which thinks it thinks,nor dares to feel(but up
with joy;and up with laughing and drunkenness)
here’s to one undiscoverable guess
of whose mad skill each world of blood is made
(whose fatal songs are moving in the moon
yellowmaus 
Oh, just adore cummings. Gorgeous. 🙂
Yes! Especially love the pacing of his lines, the way the words collide with each other, the absence of pauses… I am always struck by how the rhythm he creates defines his poetry.
So perfectly said, he claims you from tip to toe.