Would That Be Too Much To Ask?

There is still hope for us yet. 
I only listen to Bon Iver now
because he is your new favorite artist,
just to learn something as personal as 
your eclectic favoring in music. 
Would that be too much to ask?

Is there still hope for us yet?
Like the minutes beyond an afternoon
shower, waiting for a rainbow, asking
politely of the clouds to move aside
to savor this nostalgia. 

Still, is there hope for us yet?
Because summer is cooling off like a
dog, and mercury will soon be in a 
retrograde, and I am too anxious to
ask for a sunset drive in your early
2000s busted Volvo. 

Yet, there is still hope for us.
Since we share but an essay of words and
a reflection of glances with hidden
messages laced in sunken irises, 
I have yet to learn why you love music
sung soft in a sultry tongue. 

There is still hope for us yet. 
Because when I played "Blood Bank" while we were
painting the cabin an odd mallard brown,
you looked at me with the new purpose of
raising a life soaked in love.