I have welcomed my beloved
too many times to think of this as new.
Yet here I am, again, at what ought to be beginning,
back turned to the week, face to the door,
hardly richer for the settlements I have made,
the sum of all mistakes that have come before--
bills paid and too many left unopened. 
The phone has rung off the hook unanswered and insistent
though the voice that follows so often
reminds me that my presence is long overdue
or, God forbid, no longer required. 

I have heard the promise
the wretched week will fade.
But only till I hear the footsteps in the distance
that rise like a gentle wave on the beach at dusk, will I believe.
Ah, the subtle music, the fragrance, then open your eyes--
a celebrant she comes and will I only have the will
to go and meet her, look beneath the veil
and ready myself to embrace the joy 
that might be mine by birthright.