Better than all of my dreams,
the feel of your hand in mine.
The day before yesterday
you smiled through blue eyes at me.
And yesterday,
and today you will,
and I have enough confidence to say tomorrow.
It is a curious thing:
I remember where we were
when we agreed to try again.
I can take anyone there and
recreate the entire scene.
But I cannot tell you what day it was,
although I'm sure my journal could.
Therein lies the point, I think.
Whether this is magic
or Divine Intervention
or just fate, it only works
because I have stopped counting.
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