Finishing Thoughts

If there’s a measure for 25 years,
It’s the words I never utter.
No not the sweet endearments,
Though I’ve unfailingly been remiss
With those small touches,
But rather, the unspoken, yet clearly communicated
Thought that, a priori, my loves property
She is always ready,
Should I hesitate to complete my ideas,
Or clarify my expressions,
No one reads my poems or hears my thoughts
With such insight.

Yes, we can still surprise one another,
But we have reached the place
Where thoughts are shared
By the slightest movement of a finger,
An eyelash flutter, or a pause.

She is my home.
Her presence lifts me
And shows me what is possible.

I cherish her and wish to spend the next 40 years at her side.

At one hundred eleven I will reconsider my options.