Your smile is luminescent. It has no warmth behind it.
But for these long years with you I’ve come to barely mind it.
All day long I bask in the sunshine of another.
How can he be so different from one who is his brother?
Like the sun and moon are you, two different sorts of light.
Both bright enough to read by —one by day and one by night.
I recall the heat and passion and humor in his eyes,
as I lie with you in moonlight, waiting for the sun to rise.
Luminescent is the prompt word today.