waiting at the turnstile

waiting at the turnstile,
standing just ahead of me in the queue,
She is You:
too good to be true,
You are so True, eternally,
the fealty sucks the breath
right out of me,
slaps me down on the ground,
like I am just a lost dog,
waiting to be found;
You are like the air,
known about,
and ever-present for Your share:
all around me,
this much I know,
but where You will stop,
where You will cease to grow,
this understanding
I will never know;
Oh, the dark nights
of love pressed tight,
and those sparkling days,
of golden skin, on display:
I want to go back to those
other days, those olden ways,
back when "I love you"
meant ten-thousand yeas;
I love You so much,
mi amor, siempre es verdad,
You are the best, the best
I have ever had.

September 12, 2009, for the Wifey.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

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