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I Am Loved
 
Happiness often sneaks in through a door
you didn't know you left open.
John Barrymore.


~.a prose.~

A man loves me. A sweet, kind, clever
and honourable man loves me.
Most amazingly, he also thinks
he is in love with me.
He is nine years my junior
but I rather imagine he is in love with
the idea of loving a good woman.

Here am I...
grey haired,possessing no material wealth,
disabled to the point of requiring care
and he loves me?

A relationship with a man
is the last thing I had imagined for myself.
Forty years of marriage to a self-centred,
self-seeking, selfish soul, caused me to
close those steel trap doors to the heart
very firmly.
War-tattered, one imagines oneself faulty,
unworthy, un-lovely and unlovable.
It comes therefore, as a great surprise
to see myself through the eyes
of one who genuinely cares.

Oh, I love him.
I have loved him for two years now
but as a very dear friend, a brother, a confidante.
We have cried on each other's shoulders,
laughed together, prayed together,
trusted and cared.

I am not in love.
He understands and accepts this.

A great happiness is bestowed
with the knowledge
that I am still a desirable woman
in the eyes of one person
for whom I care a great deal.

And that once injured heart is quite mended.
Thank you, God.




By cherryk

© 2018 cherryk (All rights reserved)

 

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This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Walking Papers (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Walking Papers (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Walking Papers (challenge has been closed)


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