When You Are Here, That’s When I’m Home

I wrote you a letter with the first breath I took
I’ve written you every moment since
Your name has steadfast sat on the tip of my tongue
But darling, while for so long words escaped
Your half-moon heart I know so well

For my star shines from the other side
Celestial marvels apart
But oh sweet love,
Together we are full.

I took my patiently longing letters and sent them
Beseeching each stranger, stop light and song to be my postmen
I prayed that the conversations between our searching souls could rise to paint the sky–so that the stars might mirror your freckles, the moonlight the glow in my eyes
Our perfect haze of what will be.

Heaven drew maps on our palms
So that each time we sat with our head in our hands
We could trace the paths worn into our calloused skin
To see how much closer we’d come
To sharing no more paper words
Besides the Times between us
On sleepy Sundays

I didn’t know my map was torn in two
That when the path seemed most to come to a solemn stop
When I was all but ready to rest my aching bones and weary mind down under our evanescent canvas above
To wait for you
You would reach out to shake my atlas palms, my compass heart
Repeat words I’d say for decades to come after long days

Hello, my love. It’s so good to be home.