For My Wife

I wrote this short poem several years ago in attempt to capture in words just how captivating my wife is; her gentle spirit, grace, and beauty. I wrote this in a season when it was just the two of us, no children. Looking back on it now I see in this piece not only my love for her as she was then, but the immeasurable love that I hold in my heart for her now as I watch her with our son.

There are so many subtle layers to the imagery used in this poem that I feel I would be doing injustice if I attempted to explain it all. But, put simply, this poem was an attempt to capture a fleeting moment in which I saw illuminated in my wife both a youthful vibrance and a mature wisdom and grace of an older woman.

She is the perfect mingling of wisdom, class, refinement, and eternal childlike playfulness. She has a mother’s heart and a child’s unwavering trust and grace for the ones she loves.

Morning
This morning I saw you walking among the trees
out beyond our fence line.
The sky was gray, the sunlight slanted,
and the grass was tall and brown.

Your skirt moved in playful rhythm
with the silent fluttering of the falling leaves,
and the mist seemed to clip at your heels;
the same mist that now settles around the brim of my cup,
that dances with my breath,
that briefly masks my reflection in the window.

You wore a mother’s smile, as the leaves came to rest in your arms.
And stepping out into the open field you took each one as your own,
clutching them to your chest, igniting their hues in the morning sun.

 

One Comment

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  1. I like the poem. I like its origin even more.

    Liked by 1 person

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