The Mystery of You

When we are talking, and I look at your hair,

the mystery deepens.

How can the world be in

a few strands, of black and grey,

with a little bit of brown?

How can one set of eyes, hold

so many answers, give so many clues,

so that the world makes sense?

I wonder,

how can skin be so soft,

so intoxicating,

so exhilarating, when I hold you?

Listening to you breathe,

hearing your heart,

50+ years, and still holding the fire,

still climbing mountains,

still conquering galaxies,

how do you do it?

May I always be worthy,

of your love.

 

Note: Originally posted April 15, 2015

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies

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