Tomorrow, when the guests have departed,
the balloons deflated,
and the champagne de-fizzed,
you will sit alone
and contemplate how the years zipped.
But tonight, tomorrow is just a figment,
and with my hand in your sunworn hand,
we twirl round and round,
and I hope that you see:
I’m yours now more than ever,
our eyes, thunderstorm mirrors,
and your heart?
I carry it in my heart.
