Most things are measured
By how much we care,
And as much I don’t like
Being corrected on a
Technicality,
I must confess
That you have me there,
For although my concern
Is most urgently spent
Determining the situation
I suppose I’m blinded
By my inability
To see entirely
How far we come since we met,
And how much it meant to me
Once you went
Back to the land of laughter
That you left a year ago,
And have made your home
Once more
With your daughter.
So even though my sightless
Nights with you
Have been corroded further
By my acid reactions,
I still love as much as I did
When I first realised I’d lived
So long without you.
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