While I was packing, I ran across this poem my Mom had tucked away in a cookbook...
My Husband of So Many Years
How good he is,
My husband of so many years;
Tears come to my eyes
When I see how crepey his neck has become,
How bravely he tries
To straighten up.
Once his jaw was hard and he stood tall
With no effort;
It is as if his body had been sabotaged
One dark night
By some unseen enemy.
I know he feels that way,
Yet, when I look at him today,
I feel far more tender toward him
Than ever I did when he was young and strong
And seemingly invulnerable.
O my dear old friend-lover,
Time-ravaged, fellow traveling,
Camouflaged boy,
Can it help you to know,
Can it help you to hear,
That not only as you were but as you are
You are to me
Inexpressibly dear.
4 comments:
I think that is just beautiful. I will have to share it with my mom.
Bittersweet is the word that comes to mind as I envision your walk down memory lane while you are finding, sorting, saving or discarding, and packing for your move. Thinking of you with love.
K
Julie,
I felt your heartbeat on that one. Beautiful, and very real, just like you.
Judy
What a sweet, touching poem. Knowing you found it tucked away in one of your Mom's cookbooks makes it even more dear. Thank you for sharing it on your blog.
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