When I met you I was —
I try to remember
the person who walked with
my face. Before there was
you, it was a different time
of day. The sun scattered in
other patterns through windows
on opposite sides of a house.
There are very nice pleasures
at dawn, a bright morning. Also
golden hours. And long evenings.
Here we are at the clear hour of
a blameless summer day.
We’ve already set our habits.
You’ve had your coffee, cooked
my breakfast. I stretched,
reached for a few kisses, and off
we step, palm to palm, down from
the front porch stoop, and into
our lives we choose
again and again.
Common Poem 