Cimmy’s Poetry: A Labor of Love

“I love you, dear, with all my heart.”Loving Hands

The words she never told him,

And, yet, there is no doubt in him

That her heart should enfold him.

For, though her hands fly far to work,

Each time they fly right back

And seek, in his, the safest home

They, otherwise, might lack.

Her matchless eyes, that miss no sock,

See nothing but his good.

Though sometimes she may make mistakes,

She’s often where she should.

So, “Does she love you?” they may ask.

He never needs to guess.

He’ll clasp her hand and give a squeeze

And calmly answer, “Yes.”


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