A Year

Early morning, it is threatening rain outside.
I unfold a little piece of you; I bring it close,
Imagine your ending day, and kiss the paper good night.
There is love, and happiness, so it goes,

Full of love between the creases, clumsy words
That shove their hands into pockets, mute with feeling.
Not a poet, and your messenger no song bird,
But it is honest, full of your gaze, and revealing.

It is the one thing I can touch, from so so far away,
So the handwriting become fingers I hold,
To make up for our very first evening at Marina Bay.
We must be brave, take the plunge and be bold,

And now a year’s gone by, and tears start falling like pearls of time
We had strung together. I just want to promise you again, ‘You’re mine.’