Words of Love Day 3

The first time this poem came into my life was during a college poetry class.  As unoriginal as my stumbling upon it was, it spoke to me in a very profound way.  Just as in the way when rain falls it comes down and touches everything, so does love, and no where have I seen that more beautifully illustrated than in the last line of this poem "nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands".  

Somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond

"somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond

any experience,your eyes have their silence:

in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,

or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me

though i have closed myself as fingers,

you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens

(touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, I and

my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,

as when the heart of this flower imagines

the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals

the power of your intense fragility: whose texture

compels me with the color of its countries,

rendering death and forever with each breathing

(I do not know what it is about you that closes

and opens; only something in me understands

the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)

nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands"

- E.E. Cummings