She is poetry; how has she never planted
The seeds of words in another’s heart
Before? Her heart is open like an angel’s wings,
Ready to receive and embrace the beauty
Of the world, as mine is open to her.

That smile begins in her heart and
Spreads like wildfire to her lips;
I feel it as we share the same breath,
See it ignite her eyes as I open mine.

The memory of her hand is always in mine,
An imprint of a smaller, softer palm in
My somewhat smooth skin
That is too often roughened by
The harsh winds of many winters.

(I am entirely me, and she is
Entirely accepting, entirely embracing,
Wholeheartedly loving. She makes me
Want to unlock all of the long forgotten
Rooms that others have made me
Afraid to enter for so long.)

The world is a better, brighter place
For her presence, full of the love
Of her heart and the wonder in her eyes.
I feel that luminescence every day as
She shares her joy with me.

She brings so much to my life, but
Of all the gifts that she gives me,
The greatest is being the reason
For so many of her smiles.

06/26/2016

Posted on 08/16/2016
Copyright © 2024 Richard Vince