To A Stranger
Passing stranger! You do not know
How longingly I look upon you,
You must be he I was seeking
(It comes to me as a dream)
I have somewhere surely
Lived a life of joy with you,
All is recalled as we flit by each other,
Fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured
You grew up with me
Were a boy with me
I ate with you and slept with you
Your body has become not yours only
Not left my body mine only
You give me the pleasure of your eyes
Face, flesh as we pass,
You take of my hands in return
I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you
When I sit alone or wake at night, alone
I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again.
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.
-Walt Whitman