Wait ’til you meet your mother’s eyes
She laid them on me over lunch today
And there was nothing left
But to rest my fork
In the quiet courage of her lines and this love
Like a spring leaf so fragile so translucent
No storm would ever be thick or passionate
Enough to tear or burn a hole through
Then this dimple of hers so precious
It could only be issued on one cheek
Embossed by freckles (I pray you have that too)
When she smiles her cheek turns to pastry
No other word for it
Her hands are tiny but always there
Her legs chiseled by the memory
Of skating—That balance
Which taught her how to fall
Then you’ll meet her mouth
The kisses of which
Ground and levitate you
Like she invented the act
But enough said and maybe it’s already too much
I can’t wait to discover her through your eyes
Can’t wait to meet the woman through your love
And the man I’ll be with you both