Refill

Refill

I refill your coffee cup each morning.

Is that enough?

I get in bed first and warm the sheets

In cold winter.

Could I do more?

The trimmed lawn, the kids after school,

The toilet filled with shit, perfect toast.

Enough?

But that’s not the kind of work love requires.

Intimacy, personal space, emotional distance

Are just the names for the puzzle

You and I drudge out every day.

Sometimes you and I are you and I

And sometimes us.

Sometimes a touch is enough

To bridge the crevice.

Sometimes an earthquake is what we needed

To come together.

And still the love dream shape shifts

Into fuzzy resolutions.

There is no end,

At least none we can see.

The answer is in the mystery of each moment.