Jean
10-27-2001, 11:28 PM
COMPANIONSHIP
by Anne Campbell
It isn't that we talk so much!
Sometimes the evening through,
You do not say a word to me;
I do not talk to you.
I sit beside the reading lamp;
You like the easy chair.
And it is joy enough for me
To know that you are there.
It isn't that we go so much -
Sometimes we like to roam
To concert or to theatre,
But best of all is home.
I sew a bit or read aloud
A book we want to share.
And it is joy enough for me
To know that you are there.
It isn't that you tell me
The things I've come to know;
It goes too deep for words, I think,
The fact you love me so.
You only have to touch my hand
To learn how much I care,
And it is joy enough for me
To know that you are there.
I found this poem printed in a genealogy book many years ago. It has always been a favorite of mine.
by Anne Campbell
It isn't that we talk so much!
Sometimes the evening through,
You do not say a word to me;
I do not talk to you.
I sit beside the reading lamp;
You like the easy chair.
And it is joy enough for me
To know that you are there.
It isn't that we go so much -
Sometimes we like to roam
To concert or to theatre,
But best of all is home.
I sew a bit or read aloud
A book we want to share.
And it is joy enough for me
To know that you are there.
It isn't that you tell me
The things I've come to know;
It goes too deep for words, I think,
The fact you love me so.
You only have to touch my hand
To learn how much I care,
And it is joy enough for me
To know that you are there.
I found this poem printed in a genealogy book many years ago. It has always been a favorite of mine.