They slip easily into familiar patterns
Of complaint, of petition and casual affection.
I am still aching empty.
Fill me with your strongest grasp
Affirm that I didn't lose my place
In line when I stepped out of your sight.
When we fall into familiar patterns
(I sit here, you lean there)
When we read or play or eat
I am not fully convinced that I belong.
Then you give a secret and dime's worth
Of your sparking, wild hopes--
I see that your home is at my center.
With you, I am complete.
Your echoing faces hint at your relief
That nothing changes when we wave good-bye.
We belong together and your hands fit in mine.
Your hopes set off wildfire joy in me.
