Once,
before our hands first held,
we sat and muffined here
(we shared a cake,
two forks, one plate).
Then, as now,
surrounded:
by your sweet self,
this so gentle spirit,
an all-embracing gift
unwrapped and sometimes held
just as sleep calls us to its own,
descending now as slow rain
on a damp day, clouds low
in the valleys, greyness,
greyness everywhere,
except in your eyes' promise.