Tell Me, Please

I wonder
Does anyone celebrate your breath
Rising like steam
Into January nights?

Is there another
To joy
At the rise and fall
Of your breasts, as you lay sleeping?

Does anyone stop
What they’re doing
To watch you
Towel dry?

Is there a mind
That drifts
Like timber in a stream
Toward imaginations of you?

Is there a throat
To sing of your glory
Before the admiring stars
In crisp, midnight skies?

Is there a lover
Straining to hear your
Faintest whisper
Your most heartfelt prayer?

Love is rare
And holy
And given only to those
With quivering hearts.

Is there one?
Tell me, please.
Because love like this
Comes but once.