I often concern myself

I often concern myself with

Why she loves me

But it’s a pointless exercise 

When a good woman’s love is as unwavering as a sparrow’s 

wing to its young. 

When I look at her

Breathe her

Smell her

Every atom is alive.

When I touch her in awestruck delight

And sneak a peek as I kiss her

And finally look at her showing all my intent

She knows I love her with all my heart. 

When I say the words I love you

She knows it’s my absolute truth

And it’s that truth that allows her

To accept her own love as truth. 

But it’s she who I love

The happy lady in the street

The jolly friend always there

The vibrant lover flavoured to perfection 

The fearsome mother who prefers yes to no. 

But she’s also a daughter of duty 

And duly she is bound to be torn. 

When we meet it can feel like

She is leaving at the same time as arriving. 

Is it me or her

Or is it that time is so short

We rue the first moment as our last?

I often concern myself with

Why she loves me

But it’s a pointless exercise

Even when I have nothing to give her

Apart from a broken heart

A battered back

A scarred brain

And a gentle soul.