I wanted everything with you.
To wake up one morning,
and see your sleeping face
and know
that from that moment on,
your freckles would be the first thing I saw
on all my mornings.
To go on adventures,
holding your hand
while sitting on the roof of our van
and exclaiming over beautiful things,
then looking at you and realising
I’ve already seen the peak of beauty.
To kiss you,
and know that your lips will be the last
to ever touch my own.
To experience that breathless moment,
hanging like gossamer between us,
right before the “yes”.
To sign that stupid piece of paper,
that nevertheless means so much,
because it says that even the law accepts
that we’re meant for each other.
To share a name with you,
to call you my spouse.

To open a front door,
sunlight highlighting the grey streaks in my hair,
and go out into our own garden,
and look at our little piece of woodland
and hear our burbling stream,

and know that all is as it should be.