We are generous with each other,
though it’s evident anything
I love instantly becomes his.
I never tire of his stories, which
I know for a fact are all true.
For his part, he listens
without ridiculing my hopes.
Where we meet is the moving balance-
line between memories and plans.
We make a complete circle, my
sweeping ahead, his looping behind.
How could I ever feel poor,
knowing the note of each moment
is backed by the gold
ingots of those five decades
he is carrying for me safely
in a satchel under his heart?


© 2007 by Thomas R. Smith. All rights reserved.