The last time I did anything meaningful
You and I were sitting
on the edge of an isolated pond
on a warm Spring day speaking in foiled
careful words about our future.
We sipped green tea
from earthly potted mugs
while savoring sesame seed butter
spread over earth-scorched toast.
We patiently read Rumi
and Maya to each other.
Your voice spoke just above the whisper
of a serenely blowing breeze
as the edges of your tone
touched the spine of every leaf.
You needed that afternoon
to declare you would never
ever leave home again.
Even though the heavy blanket
of our unheeded vows
garnished sorrow and disappointment
it carried no gravity that day.
I was with peace in your firm hands.
You felt secure knowing
the future would somehow
always include US.