You Are My Very Favourite Thing

He rushes with her
Hand in his.
With jangling ragged breath,
He leaps up stairs, into fresh daylight.
He turns to her, cheeks on fire,
“Behold! my heart,” (now slowly) “all of this,
And everything else that is mine, is yours!”

He casts his eyes delicately,
At the surrounds of peaceful streets,
Church steeples, nestled in between
Trees, and trees, and distant trees.
The peace in his eyes,
Glints back at the dew and
The smokey colour of the hills.

He turns full circle and back again
To the warmth of her gaze, that never left him.
And silently she says to him, “Love,
You are my very favourite thing,
You are the best this world has in it,
And I can see, the things you see,”
(Now slowly) “All reflected in your eye.
And there, they are everything,
They ever were and could hope to be.”