My life feels brief as the dew when I compare it to your ocean, but if you will have me, this is what I offer you. My home is your home. My arms are a haven for you to rest. My last name is yours if you desire it. I will love you to my grave, and even beyond it, when the mists welcome me, when I am hopefully very old and gray and grouchy and have spent the seasons beside you when you are here and dreaming of you when you are gone. I love you, dearly, Red. Come home to me. Return to me, when you can. I will be watching the skies and the river until then.
