The Urbane Gallant

Is it the knightly gaze?
The one that makes you feel
As if you are the only person in the world
Wherever we’re together?

Or is it the chivalrous attention?
The one that lets you in
On the thousand and one butterflies
Exiting cocoons, circling my navel?

Is it the complaisant words?
The ones that tell you how time stops
Dead in its tracks, every time I open up
To read a line of yours?

Pray thee tell me, sweetheart.
Tell me, so I may know which ones to cut out
And stick on the fridge door not to forget,
So lust might blossom coolly with love,
Blooming, blissfully unrequited.

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