Anam Cara

I have looked
Long and hard and high and low
For a home for my heart.

I have seen it beaten
Bruised and wounded and hurt and bleeding
And a sehnsucht like none other.

But it knew the moment I met you
You were trouvaille and serendipity
You are home, my home.

You did to my heart
What sunlight does to cwtch the cold flowers
And Neruda’s spring, to the cherry trees.