Sometimes, yes,

you are an object to me

to meet an urgent lack.

 

At times, you’ve been

 

a silken bolster

for promise in the dew light

when mornings come too early;

 

a stony buttress

of mellow joy and charity

when days lean hard against me;

 

a lugger’s cable

hauling me to calm harbors

when torment roils my oceans;

 

a gazetteer page

with incredible futures

when my own dreams dry out;

 

These you have been

and will be again.

 

-- to Lisa on 3 July 2021