If I Were Asked

If I were asked what would I miss,
if missing was to be,
I'd take the time to sit a while
with countless cups of tea.

I'd pull an extra saucer out,
another cup for you,
and we would linger on the porch
at least an hour or two.

Then we would rise to walk the lane
where berries greet the gate.
Perhaps we'd stop to gather them,
perhaps our stroll could wait.

While gazing at the endless sky,
I'd hear the sun suggest
that shadows dally over fields,
and Earth should pause to rest.

And if I had to answer, then,
if asked of me once more,
what I would miss, if missing be,
I'd answer as before.

I'd take the time to sit a while,
let daylight be my friend,
so I would never miss a thing,
and life would never end.

The cups of tea, the berries, sweet,
the shadows where we'd hide,
would always be, as you, with me,
forever by my side.