And love me,
Not in the way that you were taught
Or in the way that it used to be,
But in the way you need air to breathe.
Love me like a breath of fresh air,
Like a ray of light,
Like a mother's stare
Upon her newborn babe
Love me in the sea,
In the grass with the bugs and insects
Waiting for our picnic
Love me, oh do.
Now, there, forever!
Last like nothing has.
Andrew Wyeth, Turkey Pond 1944