It’s a moment in a crowded room
when your eyes fall upon a single person, laughing,
chatting, moving faster than the rest of the party,
yet her movements are smooth, fluid,
slowly registering in your mind.

It’s a poem spoken in conversation,
that ends in silence,
but continues separately
as each person thinks of what to say next.

It’s a smile, an agreement to meet up with friends,
but secretly going to see one person.

It’s a feeling that something great
is on the verge of coming to life,
a confidence that you’re making the right choice.

It’s the majority of your time recalling your last conversations,
replaying better things you could have said,
second-guessing the intentions behind her responses.

It’s a walk to the lake,
barely wearing summer clothes,
noticing the intricacies of exposed skin,
swimming in the setting sun’s light.

It’s a kiss on the hillside,
a desire to give magic to this moment, together,
that it might transcend all we have ever felt alone.

It’s a promise, a shared home, a second pillow on her bed,
the hidden rituals of her privacy, simply witnessing her living.

It’s a ring around a dream,
to see within to the child that grew
into the person as you know her,
it’s the child you were, wanting to be known by her.

It’s the ceremony, the dance,
the night we we were supposed to feel different,
the intertwining of families, hopes, futures.

It’s the beginning of real things,
homes and yards,
rooms envisioned with intention,
a purity sanctified in wishes,
still new, still waiting to be known.

It’s a heavy winter storm shutting down the town,
snowed in at the house, together,
husband and wife with the intent to conceive.

Its children, it’s changes, it’s growing together
through all the unexpected parts of what we thought we would do.

It’s the pain, the hurt that cause us to recoil, pull away,
yet keeps us believing, keeps us willning to try again.

It’s the shared time,
the meaning assigned to the chapters of our lives,
it’s how I celebrate you.