Wish Poem by Tom Billsborough

Only your warm heart and nothing more.
My paradise would be a field
With no nightingale or lyre
With an unassuming river
And a small fountain there.

Without a spur of wind over the foliage
Or a star pretending to be a leaf.
A great light, glow-worm of another,
In a field of broken glances.

A serene rest, where our kisses,
Resounding specks of the echo
Would open far away.

And your warm heart, nothing more.