I tell people it’s always there now
your presence, as though switched on somehow.
How every hour has become my miss-you hour
and I’m warm with you beside me. Right now
I feel your hand rest easy in my palm.
all your bright days gone,
your dour and tut-and-fidget days behind you.
Your toughest hour has all the iron within me
burnished to warmest amber,
shaped to a circle, a frame I see our picture in;
that one we’re laughing in, arms
around each other’s shoulders,
Where does the one end
and the other begin?