the ideal state of us

If your breath is not caught up in mine
as I inhale the surrounding air,
and my hand does not in yours entwine
when their idle swathes draw near,
then love has not yoked us as I’d hoped;

If your pulse does not at all times race
thick with thrills and fulfillment,
and my tongue does not your body trace
with the lust of a thousand youths,
then desire has not warmed us as it could;

If your thoughts do not to me escape
when darkness clouds the moment,
and my stress is not by you reshaped
into a courage calm and staid,
then fate has not bound us as I’d dreamed;

If the dimples of our gladdest smiles
do not on each cheek a rut entrench,
and wrinkles of our travelled miles
fail to endear themselves to us both,
then joy has not found us as it should;

If your eyes do not have mind to spend
the dying light absorbed in mine,
and my arms do not around you bend
in a shape long since memorized,
then I’ve not found home as I believed.