Days
filled with dusty tomes and forgotten archives,
the memories of lives long since lived;
paradise for the historian.
Nights
spent with family and friends,
a welcome respite from long days of ponderous thought
as the cogs turn,
churning out ideas, themes, patterns.
Swept up in it all;
sometimes I forget to tell her just how much I miss her.
She,
who is my life, my light, the heart of my being;
who waits restlessly for my return from distant shores.
She,
whose smile haunts my every waking thought;
whose open arms and generous spirit warm the darkest, the coldest of rooms;
whose spirit, stalwart and loyal
still holds ample room for care and comfort.
My beautiful Helen,
I miss you more than darkened sky misses the kiss of the sun;
I miss you more than desert sands miss the gentle caress of rain;
I miss you more than all the lovers throughout history have missed their partners.
You are my evening star;
the first, the brightest, and the most memorable.
I love you.
