softly laughing

since the day that I brought
you here, you've become a fixture,
along with the thick, green grass,
the endless waves,
the blue sky that matches my eyes,
and the brown of the rich, moist soil
that matches yours;

I hear footsteps on the dirt road,
and I jerk my head around,
feigning being startled,
and for a Moment,
it is You, in the white dress,
stepping lightly toward me,
like a ballerina escaped from the troop,
quickly, deftly, quietly,
finding her way
into the arms of her love,
spinning, swirling, twirling:
eyes afire,
head back,
softly laughing.



September 6, 2009, for the Wifey.

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