Sun’s warmth on our faces,
cold breeze plunging into our backs.
We’re here together holding hands
and crossing the street.

The smell of coffee, musty books
and fresh baked bread winds around
creaky wood floors and our senses.
We take a seat and order.

We’re here together like it will be
soon, but not soon enough.
Days off are a gift to be utilized
anywhere our desires take us.
Simple hours of sleeping late,
and exploration.

We find music and poetry in cafes.
Obscure little places, few appreciate.
You find CDs and I discover old books
in the thrift shops. We meander up
and down the isles and examine what
others have purged.

Little vacations to help us survive.
We connected years ago and we
awake, joined as always, in mind and spirit.
I find joy in your presence. I can feel you
even when we’re not touching.

In three years, you’ll clear out your
office, put away the camera, say your
good-byes, leave the edit booth and
head home for good.

We’ll be here together at last.
We will travel to the beach and listen
to God’s voice in the ocean.
We will travel to the west and embrace
our grandchildren.

And we will hear the rain serenade us
on our porch with the tin roof.