As I lay my head upon our share,
Through strands of time and strands of your hair.
Oh, feather, heather, tide and weather,
We tear apart and mend together.

Standing in sunflower fields with you,
A dream so simple, yet simply true.
If we may not, joyful still we dream,
Having met in this fortunate stream.

No matter together or apart,
Hold you I shall, so close to my heart.
I whisper to this sanctuary,
“Here’s to you. Silent. Saintly. Merry.”

© Sayer Teller