Ruby Sunday

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Anniversary poem
for Kano
Forty is a ruby,
  is this bright ruby day,
  is your ruby-coloured dress,
  is the ruby of your lips
  is the ruby in your eyes
that is me
holding your hand
while you float above,
ecstatic in the breeze,
like a ruby balloon.
Forty is also
the day we begin
to make another ruby,
just as wonderful,
at the rise of which,
I know, as I know anything,
we will be as two,
two ecstatic rubies
swaying in the breeze
of the bright night,
still holding hands.