My days

Up to this very moment
I passed through each and every
day of my life,
your hands have been bearing
the lion’s share.

Words of all breeds
came to tea,
while they tore down old walls,
built new

braces for the roof
and yet,

still in blue the wisteria
flows out into our garden
from an old tree.

Reading together, eating, sleeping,
each by our own work,
in a sense our own sentences

and still

we meet in dreams

deeper yet
than the stars

beyond the sun −
whose light seems younger
than our days.

Words there were,
are still born once more
as they touch hands

before going through the days
of our life.

Tomorrow will be
another anniversary.