to know her, is to love her

a short poem

To know her is to admire
her foraging joy
in aisles of plums and perfumes alike,
her senses dancing with untamed wonder,
unfettered by the duties of age —
guided not by a list, but reminders:
of nourishment,
of presence,
of how to be.

To know her is to understand
the dialects spoken by those deep brown eyes,
in the minutes too small to hold meaning
and the hours too big to name;
when time bends,
and silence lingers,
she speaks in ways that settle the soul.

To know her is to listen
to the silence between her notes,
where meaning lives;
in the subtle dimples within her soft cheeks,
where delight finds refuge,
and sorrow is met with grace.

To know her is to recognize
her scaffolding presence,
in the architecture of my being.
And with a sort of load-bearing laughter,
or like sunlight that softens the concrete of old habits;
she is there.

And because she is there,
this life,
our life,
becomes something lovely.

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happy birthday, my dear Anya :)