Michael John Pickering builds this short poem around one image: two people as two books. In the first stanza they are closed, yet each holds a bookmark in the other. They keep their privacy, but each carries a trace of the other inside, a sign of how deeply they are linked.
Then the books open, and the bookmark is the sun, which shows where they have been. The feeling shifts from private closeness to something warmer and more exposed, as if the relationship is lit from outside and its history is visible.
The ending returns to closed books, now simply standing side by side. The word "next" suggests nearness without reading or sharing. The mood is quiet and a little wistful. The speaker seems to look back on a bond that has moved from intimate to distant, though the poem never says why. That restraint is part of its effect, and I'm inferring the sadness from the repetition and the plain, calm tone.