February 14, 2018

The Vows – Michael Symmons Roberts

We pledge to wake each morning face-to-face,
to shun the orders of the busy sun,
we promise to disturb each other’s peace.

And we will, yes, gaze at the pining moon,
will pick out brine-blown glass-gems from the strand,
will read our future scratched onto a stone.

We both believe that silence turns to sand
and promise not to add to the unsaid,
we meet here as the raging sea meets land.

We want the risen life before we’re dead,
our passion will be squandered more than spent,
we hereby swear to spend our days in bed.

We’re naked, till we wear each other’s scent
and recognise it quicker than our own.
You start and finish me, you’re my extent.


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