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he sits upon the steps of grey
a cap pulled low with sketching pen
green eyes raise and meet my pair;
wondering if this will be
years of promise now hope drawn close
body language embellishes the words,
the words we’ve kept, kept hidden
gently, a smile, a warmth so familiar

as one

go now, to the river bank
a bed of clover will invite you;
rest there, amid posies rank
as rapture fills a pair of robins
i'll be there, i'll be there
in your arms; a harmony,
a rhythm of heart
so long apart, now as one