When will you come to me? I watch with my heart.
The days grow long with waiting and my soul
searches for memories of your devotion in the words
shared when parting. Silken threads in our cloth.
We, the two of us so newly wed, had
walked alone in our own thoughts and feelings.
Finding it strange to blend words, meanings,
and touching into one handwoven life.
Come to me. Let waiting be at an end.
Our loom is ready to begin again when
you are home and we thread it together.
I hear your step at the gate. All longing flees.
The weaving of our tapestry resumes as
the loom shuttles slowly forward.