Sunflower

When he looks at her
His face fills up with joy
And affection
And respect
And tender appreciation
For all that she is and does
He angles his body towards her
In any photo, he is near her
When I first said this,
Others said I must be wrong
That I didn’t understand
That he couldn’t be feeling what I thought
Acting as I thought
As I was sure he was
But I know these mannerisms
That look of love
And awe
And profound ease
Because he wore it with me in the first years of our marriage
He stopped showing me this face
Removed it, as though it were a mask
And turned himself towards her.
She is now the sun
And he the sunflower
And I am the diminished
Darkened face of the moon
On a cloudy, starless night.

Copyright © 2015 C. Mitchell

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