Who she loves is you
up, in the morning so early,
you making the coffee
you bringing her cup
you resting on your chest,
long ago,
those babies,
who looked like you,
you, swimming in the ocean
candidly delighted
and talking about,
talking about the gloves you found, you
putting on pants, a shirt, a tie,
you fresh from the shower
you walking by her side, and
driving with your hand on her thigh,
you, supporting
in action, in thoughts, and
gifts, so many,
you pressing upon the small of her back,
promoting her journey,
and you nodding, decoding her thorny thoughts,
it took her five rambling minutes to tell you
what she means,
but you,
you can do it in one sentence
because you,
you’re smart,
you on the floor with the dog
you throwing a ball
to your grown son
who knows he’s fortunate,
pleased, and
you tender with your daughter,
who looks up to you,
you who loves your mother, your father and you
on a bicycle
a sleek, cool, black one,
you who likes a great beer and
you who likes a good party, and
you who provides, and it’s always
you, who dispels her fears,
you, so steady
through these years and years,
it’s you who protects
and it’s you who loves and loves,
quietly,
without saying it over too much,
it’s you
she knows
she knows
that who she loves
is you.