The Woman You Love

In the jest of the telling
You look across the room
And see the blooming
Face of the woman you love.

You look across the room
And see the ache of
Gifts unaccepted.
Of trips damaged by time.
The mirror that lies
With painful accuracy.

In the jest of the telling
There is a truth
That beats deep and beats true.

You look across the room
And see the blooming
Of the woman you love.