You were my warrior and I your lonely wife
at the window. You were my farmer and I
the basket, the crushed grapes, the ripe fermentation.
You were my tailor and I the seam, you my
cobbler and I the sole, you were my waiter
and I the lady at table, lean and flushed
with the touch of the sun, desiring cool
drinks or ices to quench my thirst. You were
the engineer and I the gleaming parts, the roar
of the engine, the twist and fit of the cogs.
You were the angel and I the prayer, you
were the jester and I the riddle and song.