Falling in Love with another Anne
Or how I’ve fallen madly in love with the same, yet radically different, woman twice
Once feisty Anne, her laughter sharp,
opinion a shield, principle her armour,
she’d pace the halls of life, anxiety folded taut,
but neat, beneath a silk scarf,
eyes tracing the lines of every passing slight,
never forgetful, memory as grudge,
her kindness precise, poised: a woman who wore dignity
like a fitted jacket, generous yet vigilant,
the centre of every room yet always scanning its edges,
seeking the anguish of others to help assuage their pain.
I fell in love with that Anne so deeply then, forty-seven winters ago.
Now she drifts, serene as sunrise through a hospital window,
her elegance spilled into the easy lightness of being.
Fear has left her, replaced by an incandescent Zen smile
that draws even the nurses closer,
her laughter trembling – sweet, ironic –
even when speech deserts her, words becoming music.
I find myself falling head over heels in love again,
twice blessed, witness to the gentle blooming of courage.
Our newly nascent love is deepening daily,
caressed by soft sands,
her life’s hourglass emptying,
our fresh but fleeting enchantment nurtured
by her letting go.
Your friend,
Robert
https://robertmcbrydeauthor.com/
If you feel like keeping track of Anne’s cancer journey, I’m chronicling it in prose and poetry here:
https://robertmcbrydeauthor.com/news/
