After everything it’s like the tune
we keep humming over and over
mostly for how it makes us remember
somewhere back in our shimmering youths,
before the household and the furniture,
before the children and the mortgage and the pets;
back when it was only the two of us,
only each other to abide, obey,
suffer and satisfy, endure, survive;
only one another to have and hold
and that hush that would sometimes settle between us,
and the light—how it turned silver in the dark,
till everything we touched turned into gold.
In time we came to know that tune by heart.
—Thomas Lynch, from Walking Papers: Poems