They asked me at the table where you were – why
had I come without you? Who was I
(the waiter said) to be without “the lovely girl”?
One evening, in the smoke and swirl
of voices and guitar, we were known
to be together. They remembered you
and remembered me, as two, as one.
We have no record, but in soul and blood.
We are writ in water, a shadow in the wood;
we are words unsounded and our deeds
are secrets all. – Ah, but we are the seeds
of half creation, the sea’s spring and the buds
of mountains. And when you whisper, all
The heavens thunder forth the fact of love!