A minimalist style literary art print featuring an e e cummings poem - 'somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond'. (The full poem is below) This black and white print has the author's signature and is designed simply with a classic and timeless typewriter style font and a delicate watercolor nature surround with leaves and wildflowers. In this poem, the speaker is head-over-heels in love. His lover has complete control over him, and she constantly amazes him. This art print would make an ideal wedding or anniversary gift.

FRAMED and UNFRAMED OPTIONS IN THE DROP DOWN MENU
(BLACK, WHITE or NATURAL WOOD FRAMES ONLY. Please see photo for example.) White & natural wood frames are only available in the USA and can only be requested at the time of purchase. Please choose the black frame option and preferred size and leave a note in the message to seller box at checkout letting us know that you would like the white or natural wood option instead.
• Fine art print
• Choose size from the drop down menu
Choose either botanical or black with white writing or white with black writing.

About your unframed print:
Printed professionally on high quality photographic paper (NOT cheap card stock!) with a lustre finish (beautifully matte with a slight sheen), using archival inks that will last for years.
It arrives carefully wrapped, unmatted and unframed.
Please feel free to contact me should you have any questions regarding your order - nomadartdesign [!at] gmail.com

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Easy ways to give as a GIFT:
Buy now as a FRAMED PRINT (see options in drop down menu) or as a READY TO HANG CANVAS http://etsy.me/2ovjCkT

**I ship from the UK & USA for faster delivery and cheaper postage!**

Get a custom / personalized poem print here: https://etsy.me/3usyHBT

PLEASE NOTE: ALL ITEMS PURCHASED WHILE ON SALE ARE NON RETURNABLE OR REFUNDABLE - DAMAGED ITEMS WILL BE REPLACED AS PER OUR TERMS AND CONDITIONS.

Use the code "DESCRIPTION15" to receive 15% off your order of unframed prints.

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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 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