TO LOVE HER
To love her – is to sit and rest from a long and weary day,
Reaching within a well worn pocket to retrieve a picture from an otherwise neglected wallet.
The picture she always hated the most,
The candid, full of excitement photo that reflects the early relationship and floods memory.
To love her – is to gently glide calloused and worn fingers across her face,
To love her – is to watch your children at play,
Their laughter and eyes, sparkling from their mother’s very best qualities:
Tenderness, joy and spontaneity.
To love her – is to learn from her sobering example.
How she can so freely give to those who need more than she,
To love even the lowliest social outcast?
To reconcile loved ones for evil speaking of those less fortunate.
To build on her strength, her courage, her Christ-like radiance.
To love her – is a loss of words to express a deepest gratitude for her unselfish love.
Always there to listen or to hold, her soft, and at times concerned, touch.
For this lack of expression, she will never know how much I love her.
To love her – is to love the eternities more than this fragile life itself.
She is my life but more over,
She is my eternal life and I wait for the day we arrive at forever.
To love her – is to be accused as I have, of peering through rose tinted glasses,
Even as we approach our twentieth year together.
To this end I clarify;
To love her – is to take a rose and seal it up in gold, to preserve it forever and ever.
-- EER
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