Togetherness Poem by Denis Mair

(by XXX)

Lately the weather matches the color of my life.

Like an old relationship now new. Surprise, it's reversed.

As never before, now it's my mood leading... instead of the weather leading my mood!

Or is it that the two have become so comfortable together they are now hand in hand?

...

Fall days, fall haze, changing between mild and bright sunny afternoon.

You and me laughing, playing yoga photography. You are perfection, beauty, a statute of flow, peace and grace. Framed by the wood deck and green garden we grow together. I take many photos ending with a focus on your carnal womanhood. Later you accuse me of being a terrible photographer. But you post several shots to your social media, and I know you like them. At least some of your criticism was critical. Next time watch the breath, see the longer flow and not look only for framed moment. Release control to obtain result.

We cook for each other, I ask you to video me making a layer of my first try at lasagna. You keep the video going and suddenly, again, it's you, but it's me because you bring out the absolute best of me. I'm charming, funny, capable and loving. We smile. I walk by you going towards the sink, and your foot catches my leg in that unique special way. Later, the lasagna is delicious.

The light is leaving setting the stage for Winter. But many sparkling moments still found here.

...

Then a fog, dark clouds and it's a day I woke up despondent. Far from you, in a camper in a field. Or far from you even only in the room next door. Sleepless.

Then its your turn for darkness on a day it just won't rain. Dark day becoming long dark night.

You struggle to let go of someone you can't have. Your struggle to love yourself without requirement of another. You cry, you say you are not doing well and need to tell me about it. I listen.

Do you see me? I still love you.

...

Now, finally you and I are cozy.

I'm looking out the arched windows, you're studying by the fire.

We giggle at each other. Ask each other how were doing.

The weather outside is gray, still, dense with humidity.

And we're home at last.

Our son wakes up.

I read him the first few lines of the poem I wrote.