It is the dailyness of our loving that entrances me;
The quiet comment; the soft referral of a question
That is sure of as soft an answer.
There is no chance that we may pass each other by.
You are ever close, stepping serenely to my whatever pace.
We talk in feelings and in murmurs:
Half-sentences that find silent completion in the other’s being.
We assume each other’s presence,
Unsurprised to find the assumption correct,
Yet heightened by the reminder of a touch,
A smile,
A gentleness that flows between us,
A glimpse of mischief,
A sliding tear.
Even as we turn willingly, outward to others,
Our backs are secured, each to each.
.
We move often as one, sometimes as counterpoint,
Always in relationship.
And when I miss my step, you match me rather than admonish me.
When I wander aimlessly , you lend me your purpose
And make it ours.
You are complete, yet you say I add to your completeness, as you, oh yes so surely, hold me to uncover mine.
You are my experience and I – mysteriously –
am part of yours.
Shall we move closer to each other yet?
This is your promise and my wishing,
Though not what I’d imagine, as you seem so very here already.
I await your quiet surprise for me …and yet, who knows but that in the end
I too may surprise us both?

S.M.T. 26.4.08
Anon.