The Day of You and Me/I

We can take this little day and call it “You and Me”.

I’ll look at the London sky and you’ll look at the sea.

You can be a shingle beach beneath my barefoot feet

and I will be a parasol to shield you from the heat.

You could launch a firework across the granite sky

and I could build a bonfire to make the embers fly.

You might plant a silver fern and sprinkle it with water;

I might pick a Yorkshire rose to feel myself a daughter.

You have held fast to the string and tried to calm a kite,

while I was whipping in the wind and feigned the taking flight.

You were there, your flag full-mast, and coaxed me to the shore

but I was far too anchored fast down to the murky floor.

Yet you are still a beacon of back where we lived a life

and I will doggy-paddle back to where you’re more than wife.

Know I will never throw away this friend that is my “other”:

you are the jewel inside a cave I plundered to find “mother".

I love you and I love you and I love you till I die.

You are the one, my inner soul, my me, myself and I.

Happy You and I Day. 
Sometime in March. 
2017.