“With a few flowers in my garden, half a dozen pictures and some books, I live without envy.”
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Another poem that came to me
"We were young once," I say as side-by-side in bed we lay chest to chest and thigh to thigh. "Yes we were," you say, and sigh.
"I used to be afraid of age to fear the knowlege that the wage of living is to see the advance of one's mortality."
I tell this to you as I trace the subtle lines upon your face. You hug me then and draw me near "Wife," you say, "Do not fear. Look how much so far we've weathered All is well if we're together."
Your hand then skims my waist-length hair, finds rounded hip and settles there on stretch marks left by children born then nursed on breasts that time has worn from ripe firm peaks to softer weights and I am happy for a fate that finds me in this place, this house this special moment with my spouse whose touch still makes me flush and glow with passion's fire. I love you so.