You are the sound that penetrates the darkness,
And the warm silence that precedes and follows,
You are the ringing of a telephone that falls upon
The ears of an elderly man, whose only company is
His isolation. You are the light that blinds and also
Guides the weary traveller, the headstrong hero.
You are the streaks of moonlight that my curtains
Cannot quite catch, flickering beautifully on the ceiling,
Disrupting my sleep. You are the cold gust of wind
On the most humid of days, the ice in my drink.
You are the body in my bed, and the emptiness that
It leaves behind. You are the smile on my lips and
The spring in my step.