A Letter to Me in Sao Paulo, Late October 1969

Did I ever tell you
I love the way the sun glints in your hair?
And the complementary gentle fire
in your warm blue eyes?
And the hair on your arms
which stands slightly curved
like a field of wheat in a gentle breeze?
And the strong mound of your muscles
rippling under your skin?
And the sensual softness
of the feel of your skin
under my fingertips?
And the warmth
And strength
And peace
I find
in your embrace?
You might just say I love you.