Powerful love

She is no longer real steady on her feet,

but her love is so powerful it can knock you over.

Tonight she holds tightly, choosing to be there again.

Her fingers, gnarled with living, hold his hand,

once calloused and rough, now soft and smooth.

She anchors him to this time and place, 

so he doesn't drift off on a solitary journey, 

confusion his only companion.

She leans into him, laying her head on his shoulder.

He closes his eyes slowly, the beginnings of a smile.

(Sometimes the beginning is all you get and you make it enough.)

A familiar song fills the room,

stirring memories of another time. Maybe? Maybe not?

Yes, I think maybe.

An early winter darkness fills the window

marking the season better than the calendar on the wall.

Soon she will kiss him on the cheek and leave his room,

returning to the house they shared.

Reaching for him during the night

unable to bridge the distance between what was and what is.

Coming back again and again

to make sure he knows he is not alone.

She is no longer real steady on her feet,

but her love is so powerful it can knock you over.

It can also lift you up.