The Middle With You.

How do I make you understand the joy I have as I hold your hand?

On the most mundane day, when every worry of life weighs on me like a wet wool coat…

You give me a slight squeeze and I see the foolishness of my cares and I cast them away like an empty, drifting boat…

The simplest moments of a weekday with you are precious like a Christmas morning…

As I watch you dress, sip your tea, and I watch you drift away in thought, wondering if our children are happy with their lives.

When you glance my way when you hear me at the door, the sadness of the day takes a reprieve, for how could it ever compete with those eyes?

Your insistence that I kiss you when I come in and when we wake up, as I give up all belief that I ever had any degree of control when in your presence.

‘The cliché, you take my breath away, is my reality, as you blow away, "bangs that forever need a trim", then smile within porcelain skin...

Can a man say that this is it…this is all there is?

They could if they married you, and I did…

You conquered the rebel that was in my heart…by blending the essence of your love into it…

For one time you held my hand in another life, never letting go, and by doing so…

Defeated my fear of ever believing I could be loved, or maybe that I could love another soul...

And now you allow me to hold yours in this one…

Now it’s often to help you get up…but that’s ok, for when you do, you melt into me, and I get to hold you one more time.

And on any random day I look at you when you can’t see me, reliving the joy of still feeling that visceral pain of my love for you, and know that you are still mine.

The beginning and the end of my life is meaningless, for the only meaning I ever knew, was the middle with you.