Alone at my desk all day
but for voices on the phone
and the persistent one-sided conversation
with myself, I miss that easy intimacy
we have when, as darkness falls and
afternoon welcomes evening,
you call and say 'I'm making tea'.
 
Being but a short cycle-ride away
I leave my work just as it is,
though not before measuring my progress
in thought and deed with one last look
and that delicious standing back from it all.
 
In the kitchen you are pouring tea.
As I pass through to remove my coat.
I rub your back, a gentle greeting
(a single up and down
with right hand fingers brought together).
Then, holding your dear body briefly to me,
we kiss.
 
Our conversation smiles
and I delight to watch your face
and hear the to and fro of your regional voice.
I delight in such accustomed intimacy
so many years of tea together
in late afternoons has forged.
 
As different as the yin and yang
there is a chemistry
that acts upon us both;
I think we pass the litmus test of love.
Do you love me? Do I love you?
You - the friend I turn to first;
You - a companion true in this life of shadows.
 
Once we would stand together at a mirror,
stand with smiling pleasure
and see the 'fit', a very noticeable joy;
the two of us a corporate one.
You in my arms: I in yours;
A mutual hug caught in our reflection.
And the wonder that this should be as it is.