Yearning
the tender in life,
to know softness
of heart, mind and body
in pleasing commune.
bliss
came home
and there I found
in your work-worn hands that
mooring touch like a silken tune.

People
like puzzles in so
many parts, at times
opposing and confusing,
constant and vigilant we wait
infinite
glimpses of the whole,
and at long last the verge
of pliant edges that fit as no
other ever could, your one true mate.

Companion,
and other half,
life's labor has worn away
some of the rough and left us ready
for love to mold and meld and soothe
together
till there's little
evidence of fresh seams
in the joinings, our humanness
still evident in the jutting peripheral crude.

You
are the answers
to all my questions, even
the ones I didn't know I had till opening
unearthed the refuse of the solitary pasts,
obsolete,
not needed or wanted
anymore. The Future portends
these lovers, two wanderers coupled,
two into one, holding soul hands, held fast.