On your face is etched full
half my life; the other half is me
I am the cause of that thin crease
that arches like a soaring hawk
in pride of place
riding the storm dark beneath those
long furrowed isobars across your brow

and verticals like rain
sometimes in smiles
or tears or wrath

I’ve watched your fist
pound out both joy and rage
I have heard breath
suspend in fear and wracked by sobs
coughing into hiccups
over some fine joke
enhanced by a hug

And in the mirror, I see you
and mostly you
my longtime love.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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