Christmas morning Starsky slowly awakened then swung his legs around the bed and quietly stood up. He gazed over at the other side of the bed and saw his lover was still in a deep sleep. Hutch was gently but quietly snoring, his chest golden with the softest skin, slowly breathing, in and out. His powerful legs, muscular, long and silky were tangled around the sheets.
Still naked, Starsky tiptoed to the living room and glanced around the apartment. He smirked at the disarray of Venice Place from their passion the night before. Presents were still unopened underneath the tree, and the apartment had clothing, beer bottles and sofa cushions scattered all over the floor. The apartment was very still and quiet. He walked a little closer to the tree, bent down to flip on the lights and noticed a small envelope with writing. “Starsk, don’t open until Christmas morning” tucked into the tree.
Starsky glanced toward the bedroom and then back at the envelope. Yawning, he reached for it and slowly opened the envelope and read the note.
“I know how much you hate soapy scenes, Gordo, but I ran across this poem in a poetry book and felt it perfectly expresses how I feel about you. This is our first Christmas together, and I hope the first for the rest of our lives that we share. I love you more than I can say. Merry Christmas, Starsk.
Love,
Hutch”
Somewhere I have Never Traveled by e. e. cummings
somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose
or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
Starsky read and reread the poem several times. Sensing he was being watched, he turned and saw Hutch leaning against the doorway to the bedroom watching him. He met Hutch’s gaze, looked back down at the note and back up at Hutch. Wordlessly, he dropped the note on the coffee table and followed Hutch back into the bedroom and closed the door.
Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/somewhere-i-have-never-travelled
SHaron!! This is so lovely! I have adored e. e. cummings’ poetry since I first read it in 7th grade. Thank you for reminding me of this lovely piece which fits the guys so closely!
Littlestar!! I am so very sorry! Chalk messing up who I was writing to to my not having more than 3 hrs of sleep in the last 24 hours. Everything but getting your name right is the absolute truth!
I loved this story with the poem in it!!
Thank you so very much!
Haha!! Thanks ksstarfire! Yes I love it too and I was the one who found the poem in a book and thought of the guys immediately. Thank you for your comments.
Sigh! So romantic. Just bee-u-tee-ful 😀
Thank you Spencer. I’m glad you liked it.
The Advent Calendar elves have been busy! Thank you for the nice picture at the end of the story. Early morning Venice Place and the boys in the window. Just what could they be doing??
Lovely, littlestar. I’d forgotten this poem but you remind us, now, how much it mirrors the guys. Thanks.
Note to Elves (since we’re told now, that you ARE reading these comments): WELL DONE. The majestic wreath, the silhouettes; perfect!!!!
Thank you Pat. I’m glad you liked it.
That was beautiful! I especially liked the ending where we “know” what will happen and each person gets to imagine it in their own mind. Cool. Thanks!
Thank you LilyK. Yes, I felt keeping it to our imagination was simpler and without dialogue, since the guys speak with their eyes anyway.
Awwww! Heart squishes. The poem is perfect. I can see Hutch giving a poem for a present. Love this!
Thanks mvernet! I’m glad you enjoyed it. I thought it was perfect too. I’ve always loved this particular e.e. cummings poem. So romantic.
Beautiful Christmas contentment at Venice Place! Hutch does seem like the type that would appreciate poetry and want to share it with Starsky. Well done.
Thank you marianrose! I’m glad you enjoyed it.
Lovely. Great sense of quiet and contentment, like they’re so happy of being together no other words are needed. Also, the poem was perfect. Thank you.
Lovely. I agree, the poem is perfect. Love the picture at the end as well. Well done, everyone. Thank you for the lovely gift.
I love romantic Hutch. Thank you for the lovely story and finding such a fitting poem for our guys.
That’s beeeeautiful! Sounds like Hutch giving Starsky a poem for Christmas. Perfect! Thanks for sharing! ?
A www love me some ee cummings. Thanks for sharing our guys!
A lovely, quiet moment chez Starsky and Hutch. Very nice.
“the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses”
*happy sigh*
You’ve captured this tender moment so beautifully, thank you!