My Darling. . .

Jacobus Vrel…Woman seated before hearth..1654.

My Darling.

She would call me “Darling”,

To me she was “My Sweet”. . .

A kiss we would then lightly exchange,

Upon each other’s cheek..(should we chance to meet).

She would call me darling and tell me of her day,

I would listen with heart aglow,

Till time bade we go our different ways.

Was a regular thing in our prime and stayed,

With us into our older age..

Like two actors playing their part,

Thespians..on life’s grand stage,

When regularly after shopping,

In the mall café we’d meet…

“Oh..there you are my Darling”..

She’d call…

And I would call her “My Sweet”.

But an ageing mind can its tricks do play,

Upon these innocent hearts a treat,

That seems to show up all a sudden one day,

So at first you don’t notice it,

Then dismiss as a slight miss-speak. . .

Until the stuttering pause and look adverse,

Gives doubt to spoken sense,

The loss of memory for simple words,

Gives suspicion lingering of something worse. . .

*

Now….she still calls me “Darling”.

And I still call her “My Sweet”…

And still in her mind does she shopping go,

When in her care home we regular meet..

Telling of the things she would buy,

Of the friends in the mall she’d greet,

Like two actors on life’s grand stage we’d ply,

Our different roles thespian play,

In this life’s fading light of day,

Till time bade we part our ways,

And I oft’ ponder if she does detect,

From my eyes a weeping tear doth seep..

When with kiss on cheek parting, she calls me “Darling”,

And for me, I always tell her cheerio..“My Sweet”. . .