Who knew You could be presentin the mopping of a floor?But there You are.I find You, too,next to the breadas I fix his brown bag sandwich.And there You are,riding shotgun, as I rush to the storeto pick up that prescription. You are always there,just to one side of my busy day,like divine peripheral vision.What can I give You in return?I have only me,and it seems a poor gift.But here it is, gladly given.I love You. Read next feature >