None can cleave our souls in two
Which a day long ago did entwine
By vow or wish or compulsive desire
Bound in truth and shed of lies
We promise again:
Meeting, our eyes.
The rain has beaded upon the station window
The pane stretches cold beneath his hand
The trains whistle for long departures
And his wedding band
Bereft of its mate
If I gave you a thimble, would you give me a needle?
And if I hummed you a tune, would you sing me a song?
On a summer day, in the shade of your presence
I bask in the coolness of your touch
And point our clasped hands toward the sky, to ask:
Now here is our road, would you journey with me forever?
During a crisis, I once asked my mother if she were ever happy
And with shaking voice, she replied she had never been
Since she married my father
My heart plummeted
Would I suffer the same fate?
But it must be a lie
These photographs show a woman, young and content
Brimming with joy and love for the children in her arms
How easily we believe
“We will never be happy again”
When we are sad