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Here is one of my favorite love poems (re: your post about getting pictures of phalluses instead of love poems).  The formatting is always f'd on these comments but here goes, it is by Shel Silverstien and is called "Poor Angus": What do you do poor Angus/When hunger makes you cry?/I fix myself an omelet, sir,/Of fluffy clouds and sky//What do you wear poor Angus/When winds blow down the hills/I sew myself a warm cloak sir/Of hope and daffodils//Oh who do you love poor Angus/When Catherine's left the moor/Oh then sir then's the only time/I feel I'm really poor

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Here is the best I could do on short notice, it gets a little weird with the gender switch and the possessive of they: Somewhere south of Sept-Iles A trapper with a name most French Met a native woman with a name most native They met and grew to love each other A rare unforced and natural love They lived together in the Wild old ways “Safe travels beautiful flower” He intoned sweetly every night as they slept On blankets on loan from the animals That gave them their lives They lived together in the Wild old ways For all of their remaining years At his deathbed she made him promise To seek her in the next life And the life after and the life after   His most recent attempt of find her He was born a woman because He felt through the unspoken message Of the resonance of their shared love That she had been born a man   Life is so much more technologically complex Than it was when they sipped the broth of Bone marrow from hunted deer And drank soothing teas made from herbs That people used to know as friends With a semi-disembodied nervous system she feels for him And he for her   Tonight they lay next to somebody hoping that they may be The one they know so many lifetimes ago He kisses her as she drifts off to sleep in her arms “Safe travels beautiful flower” He whispers as she drifts off to sleep Testing to see if he can remember his words Spoken to him now that he receives them As she did so long ago

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