A Sonnet to the future for us, my dear.

On faded chintz with dusty hair sits my darling
Once so fair. And even now, none can compare
Your eye flits from face to floor, roving inside
Mind's mystery, yours to mine, a gulf or wall.

You are not what once you were, and nor am I
I cannot want you back, and the nodding frame
That bodied you once; your cheerful wrists and
Pretty hair gone slack, is no prison. You now

Want only to sleep, and I too, so we lie down
And I tell you of all the things that I dislike
And those I like at that, watching, where you
used to detract, a moistened eye over silent pearls.

There is no sense in used to or was, because
You are mine, and I accept, you just are. This is you.