Others have said, You don't know
how lucky you are! I do have comfort
in the absolute faithfulness of my husband.
We think we want passion, but it's really
just hope we need.

I don't mean to be greedy, don't think of myself
as stingy. What it comes down to is simply this:
love is a decision, always a choice to let it loose
or withhold it. Yet I mourn our loss of passion.

There is solace in the loveliness that often weaves
through the predictable web of the hours. Today's
glittering surprise of morning sunlight reflected
in a spray of dew across the green grass when you
turned tenderly to me in desire as we slowly awoke.
Sunbeams bestowed in colossal rays in an afternoon
cloudbank benediction. The pastel sweep of evening
sky smoothly merging from blush peach to gilded gold,
rosemauve to hush of umber to deepening indigo,
to the black oblivion of the velvety still night.

published by the Illinois State Poetry Society Online

©2012 Bonnie Manion