Endearments

A paean to his wife

Bless you always,
Dearest friend.
You are ever in my thoughts,
For you and I
Have done so much,
Worked so hard,
Forgiven so often
And loved as much
In anger
And frustration
As in tenderness.

Yet we would have it
No different,
For even the vices of one
Are dear to the other.
No one now could fill
Such shoes
In which so much
Had been invested,
So much adjustment
Done
And so many compromises
Made.

How many years would it take
To understand another
As do you and I?
We are home to one another,
Even if all else
Is lost.
For all else
Is as nothing compared
To the intimacy
And honest goodwill
That binds us.

With you,
Regret or doubt
Is but a passing shadow.
The love of you
Is the best part of me.
I would rather die
Than betray
Or harm you.

When I am away,
My fondest hope
Is to return
And when I am with you,
It is the best place to be
Dearest Friend.

(This is not a poem as such, but prose written with declammatory emphasis.)