This is how I want it to be. While reading Hardy I turn to her and tell her how good she would Look in that blue dress she did not buy today. And I see that smirk, the one that knows I will get it for her tomorrow anyway. But just as She adjusts the pillow behind her head, reaching For her fourth volume of Proust, the same thing Happens to her. And we lean into each other, The calico cat not even stirring at our feet As our books fall forward. And that candle she lit, flickers.