Eternity Here. Now.
Come sit with me, here by the window.
Pretend or a time there is space in your day
to stop.
I will snap some beans and we will sip tea.
and talk.
This is what we need most. Not stuff. Time.
Mattering. Someone to listen.
No timelines in sight.
The soft light of the window flatters.
Makes us look younger, gentler.
It erases age. We are allowed
to be young again, hopeful
and safe to simply be,
creatures of worth, a thing measured
not by the world’s measure,
but by mere existence.
Come. Sit with me.
Breathe in the spring air,
the smell of rain approaching.
When we are sitting at our grave’s edge,
swinging our legs before we slide in,
this is what we will remember,
what we will carry with us, not to the grave
but to heaven and beyond,
our own snippet of eternity.
Here. Now.
Come. Sit with me.
About this poem
One of the things the woman and I love most is simply sitting with each other. On the porch, on the sofa, at the table. Sharing our lives. Or simply being. Together.
Sometimes, I think we have filled our life so full that real life is squeezed out.
The picture was taken at the Wilson House, in nearby Hebron, NY.
Tom
Quarry House 
What a beautiful reminder your words are of the simple power of being present with each other- Thank you for the blessing of your words and the inspiration you two bring into our world.
I have come a place where I think the lack of real presence with each other is a serious issue in life and relationships, and our world. Such a simple thing, but powerful, oh so powerful.