When You’re Here
It is just us, my dear,
no sound, far or near,
but your voice,
and no light,
but from your sight,
my only star,
to rejoice and wilt,
to hold onto, in this
blurred flight,
moments of old and new,
unshared and not,
in this bliss,
this unquiet calm,
stirred by its silent wind,
which you see as true,
and I, see you, as its one,
and only soul and hue.
