We talk

when it’s dark
outside.
And the lights
are turned down low.
Cosy, in
bed,
the world
feels a million
miles away.

You muse at
the state of the
Milky Way,
and I smile,
immersed in the galaxy
before me.

I don’t understand
this thing.
Yet I feel
it, everywhere.

There’s great
freedom in this
knowing. This
comfort of how
things are.
This looseness and
tightness
all at once.
Wild discoveries and
humble home cooking,
synchronicity.

Curiosity, humour,
joy,
and that sense that
somehow, against
all odds, this
IS the thing.

Followed near
immediately
by the fear of
loss, or as you
so eloquently said:
not fucking it
up.

You’re still
talking.
I smile into
your face.
Kind eyes,
a gentle
heart.
And enough
memories
to
last,
a lifetime.

Until then
though, grab
your keys
and coat,
and let’s bring
a dog or
four.
Who know,
where we will
go…

~Lu