If You Were Here
I would look you in the eye when I tell you
I love you.
Bearing the risk, the unshelling of my heart,
with the fearlessness of a girl child
climbing trees
and running with wolves.
I would sit in humble joy before your silver hairs
rising in the black like the moon
and each fine wrinkle: the whisper of time
I am grateful to lose with you.
If you were here, I would believe life can be kind
to me. Gathering keepsakes like a bird with an eye
for shiny things: poems, Polaroids, purple carnations.
Things I can leave at your feet, in your hands,
in the light of your smile.
If you were here,
I would be in no hurry to die.
I could look at myself
and see someone who was meant to be.
by Marie S. Crosswell, copyright 2019