An older speaker sits by the fire and looks back on a relationship that never quite became what it might have been. The quiet, ordinary details, knitting a sweater, watching a mother cat tend her kittens, show a calm domestic life, yet the speaker admits that everything still leads back to one person. Even after moving on, building a family, and becoming a grandparent, the old feeling hasn't gone away. "Though I have moved on, it is not the same" is the honest heart of it: life has been full, but something remains unresolved.
The mood is gentle, wistful, and a little sad. There's no anger or blame, just a soft ache. The short lines near the end slow everything down, and the single words "Together." and "Almost." land like small sighs. Ending on "Almost" leaves the speaker, and the reader, with the feeling of what never quite happened.