Now as I go to sleep I write in rhyme:
This evening’s thoughts be thunk and written down;
For I am his and know that he be mine;
The things of which we spoke tonight be ours.
I read and write our love and feed his soul;
He feeds mine too, of that I am aware;
For he is me – and I am he, one whole;
Completed hearts be here as they be there.
I cannot write in words that do not flow;
For he has graced my life with art and song;
My beats and metered ways be his to know;
Two minds that think as one cannot be wrong.
I am the darkest tunnel – he’s the light:
Hence poetry forms everything I write.