somewhere i have never travelled, by ee 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 skilfully,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 color 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

I know a lot of people think it’s about a lover, but I never got that vibe.  I wonder if my opinion will change once I have a newborn?  I love this one line so much I almost want to have it tattoed on my body:

“nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility”

Intense fragility, how cool is that?  I also love “the snow carefully everywhere descending”—anyone who lives in a place with enough snowfall to perceive variations in it will be able to conjure up an image of what kind of snow this is.