To my eternal lover


Crying in the shower.
Winter sun.
The promise of a work
just begun.
Perfect security.
Perfect joy.
Not found in the things
with which we toy.
Crying in the shower,
I missed your love.
Winter sun felt
too far above.
I held onto your promise,
and now here I stand –
overflowing with joy,
holding your hand.

                                      - London, 2000