Ben's poem to Meg

Where Does This Tenderness Come From?

Where does this tenderness come from?
It is not the first curls I have stroked slowly,
And the lips I have known darker than yours.
The stars rise off yours, then go out again.
Where does this tenderness come from?
So many eyes have risen and died out in front of these eyes of mine,
And yet no such song have heard in the darkness of night before
Where does this tenderness come from?
Here? In the ribs of the singer?
Where does this tenderness come from?
And what shall I do with it?
Young, sly singer, just passing by,
Your lashes longer than anyone's.