If tender gods should have us kiss
I would fetch and show you this:
my written witness, sworn and kept
through days my shy desire crept.
You would learn how I became
so fond of you I called your name;
dreaming somehow you might hear,
and having heard, would wish me near.

But tender gods no more exist
than dragons do and if we kissed
it would not be unfolding fate
which led us to that happy state
but me, amid my fear, admitting
nursing something unremitting;
hoping then, that once you knew,
you’d say you felt the same way too.