I sit next to you, watching the candle you lit
earlier as it burns steadily down, releasing
a delicate perfume which fills the room.

I page through the books you bought me,
though you are the only book I want to read.

It has always been this way, sitting next to you,
gazing into that flame which never wavers.

I sometimes have the sense that we are here
at the pleasure of another being, perhaps a deity
of love who takes great delight in our being this way.

Even though the night approaches, you and I find
a welcoming comfort in the encroaching darkness.

We are here together, holding this pristine light
between us, knowing that whatever comes —
season after season, life after life —
it will always be this way.