Whatever joys come our way,
The road ahead will be a hard one.
Your kinship though is precious,
Like sweet molasses,
Fuel for my journey.

Sometimes returning,
Battered and bruised I admit,
My basket full of
Fresh hewn promises,
Chiselled out and polished in hope.

And with all my dreams too
Of what could come true,
Of what my labours long to proffer you.

You know I give you my love, as best I can.

Together we live to the point of tears,
I wouldn't want it any other way.