A thought,
A cleverly deduced suspicion,
The certainty that you are for me wholly,
Without reserve and free admission,
Yet, I not for you, without exacting volition,
Once I knew we were one,
And that then, when we were apart, in drought,
Parched had been my soul, beyond a glimmer of doubt,
Yet, now I wonder in the depths of time past,
If you have not found within your heart another thirst quencher,
Another repast,
Such drink and meal might satisfy, fill and delight,
Yet, can it give you true comfort,
The wonder and completion,
That I might?
