Steve's poem for me,
Christmas, 2011


In seasons dark,
the rolling years
fled past in oblivion
of your love.

I found this eye, that cheek, that lock of hair
and thought it was your own.
Fool, pitiful fool, grasping
at poor imitations
of your love.

Doubt had gripped me, grief had undone me.
I swam, exhausted, in the ocean of forgetfulness,
clinging to little pieces of memory
of your love.

What a day this is,
when you have returned to me!
One hundred seventy years
as though it was but a minute.
A momentary distraction
from your love!

I turn to you where once I always found you,
though I thought it required your face and form.
Now I know your presence is ever near,
with your love.

Oh Abby, with all the mistakes I made
you love me still.
The instant I cried for you, you returned to me
as though no time had passed.
I see now that grief itself was the error.
I bathe again in the fountain
of your love!