This Is Just to Say by William Carlos Williams

I imagine coming home to this note. I imagine finding you, asleep on the couch, fruit stains on your fingers. I imagine smoothing the hair that curls on your forehead. How an entire universe resides on that touch.

This Is Just to Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

— William Carlos Williams