In stunning eyes,
And nuptial glare.
The beauty surrounds,
All my childish fondness,
I am but a weak little thing,
In the territory of your arms.
The memory of myself,
In the heat of unquiet,
Is the time a face appeared,
That was your own,
A face of frailty and an open mouth,
That whispered the qualms away.
A mother in the realm of death,
A child in the place of smallness,
Small fingers, that grope for a breast,
For I am in love
With the woman to who I’ve bent low,
Upon a knee that has hit the floor,
Alike a weight that resembles my heart,
So heavy in the history it carries.
You find family in my dark?
I will find a future in your light.