What brings us back to
this neglected Victorian
where we lived as newlyweds?
Will our Russian landlady
who'd have to be over 100
still open the door?
Behind the lace curtain,
a woman, alone and uncertain,
insists we come back tomorrow.
But we're here now, ready,
having come all this way
just to see where we started.
Your tears and sincerity
allay her fears. She opens the door.
Decades telescope into minutes,
and any doubt you'd love me
to the end is dispelled as we step
again over the threshold.
Leah, this is lovely.
Reply to this
So sweet.
Reply to this
Love it. Tender and touching.
Reply to this