I have written it plainly and honestly,
Trusting my words may fashion a wedding cup
To hold the sparkle and tonic of love.
I have not written it to praise you.
You have no more need of praise
than the flowers of your garden
Or the sensate joy of fragrance and color.
In all that becomes a woman
You are beautiful
Of heart and hand and mind,
A home for my wandering soul.
Wherever you are there is movement,
Dancing to the music of the life
Which flows in you so passionately,
Your shy, smiling babies held close.
Where you are there is laughter.
Not the tepid laughter of the meek
(which surely you are not)
But the full-bodied laughter
Of a woman sure in her self,
Warmed by discovery of another's heart.
Your spirit when it sings is a voice
At sunrise by the ocean's shore
Making my own spirit leap with delight
As if lifted by the wind and the waves.
Wherever you are, you are in the moment.
It is now, after all, where the roses are.
Here in the moonlit room
Your breathing soft and rhythmical
Your darkened form profiled in loveliness,
Emotions run too deep for words.
Then, with the dawn, I know.
I hold you and I know.
You have given me the greatest good --
The gift of myself.