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Was It Late?

Was it late when first we met, it's getting so I can't recall
How you took a letter from Heaven's alphabet
To scribe our initials upon the bright blue sky wall
I don't why I forget, and cannot find the words that express
The intrinsic music within my inner ear
Whenever you move in such a way as though the day
Were a miraculous composition written for Light's impress
Purpose and plan, the ones we made when we thought to dream?
Sometimes in the deeps of evening as I sleep beneath those waves
Seem to feel your pulse abiding in each heartbeat's slow caress
As you come to me confiding of a love and the weight of Love's distress
How Heaven never really had the letter
That you created it with your own hand and heart
Feel my soul expand, my mind expire into release
Your breath in mine the deed cosigned and cease
To wonder who is there beside me as I am standing to fall
Was it late when first we met? it's getting so I can't recall . . .

Poetry by Chaucer Whethers