Jenny held his hand
Beige eyes like
Brown sugar
In molasses cookies
The kind with the raisin on the top.
Martin held her hand
Blue eyes
Like the water under
The cobblestone bridge
The kind with fish that ripple the surface.
Their eyes met for a moment
And they could see truths
Black and white like
Piano keys under skilled hands
The kind you would listen to during a church service.
Martin turned his back on Jenny
And looked into his spouse’s eyes
A picture of all they have and
What life has brought them
The kind you find in a scrapbook with some photos missing.
Martin looked back to Jenny
She had her arm around her spouse’s shoulder
And they smiled believing
In where they belonged
The kind of love that is a whisper in a dark room.
Only I, standing in the middle
Of the cobblestone bridge
In meditation, in listening
Heard Martin and Jenny
Say, “I feel you.”
With a kind of love that will find their way back to each other; even in this lifetime.
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