THE WINK

I would watch her

in wonder

sitting quietly

knitting a sleeve

on the sweater

she made just for me,

putting on makeup

she never needed,

gazing at her reflection

in the mirror

as she brushed her hair.

She might

catch me

watching

give me a smile

and capture me

with a wink—

assurance of what was—

promise

of what was yet to be.

I would tell her

how my heart filled

to overflowing

each time

I saw her

as though

for the very first time,

and breathed a prayer

of thanksgiving

that she loved me

as I loved her

beyond explanation.

John A. Bayerl, January 26, 2012

That's how it is tonight, Dear, beyond explanation.