The table holds the tokens of your love;
a card, a present.  Simple things, and still
I don't know how you keep on finding time

to work, to care for parents, and yet have time
for showing me the warm, unbounded love
that strikes me silent, wonder-filled and still.

The hours you're gone, the house is quiet, still;
my heart the ticking watch in measured time.
I'm thirsting for a droplet of your love;

love concentrated by the still of time.