You. Me. Us

You in the dining room table chair
Me on the uncomfortable sofa we both hate.
You play guitar and rain falls in rhythm on the roof.
I think to myself silently:
The rest of world can have their fancy dinner parties; their summer homes they  never use; and their mixed cocktails.
I'd rather have take out food, our tiny cottage and fine herbs with you any day.
Being with you is everything.
We are the royal ones my love.
Rich in spirit, rich in passion, rich in love.
We are unfathomably deep in riches that many will never even know.
Bathed in light.
Our light.
You.
Me.
Us.

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