Into the warm, inviting yellow
twists a brush loaded with blue.
Surprised, suspicious,
the shades swirl round each other,
and then, by magic,
marbled patterns turn
to startling viridian.
It is utterly final.
Once made, the new colour
cannot be undone;
once committed, the blue and yellow
cannot be divorced:
this is a lifelong union,
longer by far than the life
of the artist who mixed it.
So it is with you and me:
bearing our separate lives
we have swirled and marbled,
mixed and mingled,
become one,
created a new colour
with an as yet unknown chemistry.
Together, we make green;
and, though parted for a while,
yellow does not leave blue
and blue does not rip itself from yellow.
Instead, two emerald puddles,
distant in space but not tone,
dream of being plastered on a palette,
poured into a pot,
indissolubly one.
For now, our separate lives continue
and we wait,
rationed to fragments of time,
which moves on,
as love itself draws breath
and looks forward to our next meeting.