You walk up from the river
you float down my eyes―

do what you like, white strap-lines
on the clove shade of your shoulders.

The moon comes up on
the burnt-looking horizon,

you walk up from the river,
a river of yourself― you float
down my eyes.

I stare over the split
stone cliff, the donkey standing
on the olive-shaded hill-it's all

the same― you float
down my eyes― I look away―
you float down my eyes.

Do what you like,
on the hillside of oregano,
in the field of short sunflowers,

the slow look on your face,
the slow wind moving
the blue dust down the fig skins,

do what you like― you don't know
how good you are, twin hills of moss
your eyes come near, out of sleep,

you don't know, you lay your head
back on the bedroll
and look up at me like
we've been together
for twenty years― I take
the towel away from your body,

your clove shade― you
float down my eyes― I drag
your throat slow with my hair,
the shadows make the pine needles

look soft, split stone cliff,
the slow waves softening
the light below them,
the river giving up
what it owns to the sea.

Doren Robbins

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/you-float-down-my-eyes-love-poem/