Face to face,
hands in hands,
She’s searching your eyes
for signs adoration,
for joy,
for love
for appreciation.
She is straining her ears to hear you say,
I love you.
You are beautiful.
You make me happy.
I’m so glad you’re mine.
And you say,
Are those black hairs coming out of your nose?
Is that because you’re old?
Shawn L. Bird 
hello my friend. you put me in a moment. one I remember as sacred, and constantly yearn for. thank you 🙂
Ahh.
Thanks?
My viewer only allowed me to see the first few lines…I just saw the whole poem 🙂 still puts me in a sacred place.
🙂
Haha. 🙂
😉
Lol. What a cool and relatable write.
Glad you enjoyed it, Dave. Thanks for stopping by.
Reading this has made me wodner why I haven’t checked out your blog for such a long time.
I deserve to have my wrist slapped AND to be called a booby – although if you did that, I’d probably raise my eyebrows in surprise 🙂
lol
Welcome back, Jane. 🙂
How fickle we can be! Looking back, I treasured every out of place hair, just grateful she was still alive.
I’m not sure if this one is about obliviousness or filters. You know how folks on the autism spectrum are prone to blurt? I suspect it’s the same thing. Or that thing when you’re nervous, and you say the most inappropriate things? It doesn’t necessarily mean lack of connection, just bad timing! lol
[…] poem-straining (shawnbird.com) […]
Better than asking if they are grey hairs 🙂
lol Well, have you SEEN my head?! 😉