A Valentine for Pen

I love you, says the clock, paradoxically silent, watching
through the night with red eyes. I love you, says the long
wooden table across from the wide bed with the bookcase
upright beside it, the black lamp arching over, the old computer
waiting for its work. I love you, I love you, the echoes, reaches
of the tall room, the hanging pictures, the catalogs, clothes, the
cats securely sleeping on the disheveled old couch, the pulled up
small rug put over its cushions, all say it, the enclosing dear room,
the balcony above which opens at each end to bedrooms of the
children, I love you, says Hannah's ample particular heart, says
Will's wide responsive heart, says each resonance of every sweet
morning's opening, here said, again and again, I love you