Jam on my toast, made by my love
from his home far away
on an old autumn day.

Fruit picked with care, and sweetened with smiles,
his words in my ear
as the juice bubbled clear.

Knock on my door, a man with the mail,
bringing love's Mass
in jam jars of glass.

Love on my lips, smiles in my heart,
miles disappear;
love lives right here.

But the season has passed; his love is now gone
and the spoon that I am
lifts his taste in his jam.

LCA 2008

That is so beautiful!