Good husband,
successful children,
comfortable home
in a posh part of town,
and still youthfully pretty.
Why that sadness
glimpsed far back in her eyes?
At last she told her story:
the first husband killed young,
no time to grieve
working to support their child.
She has no complaints.
She’s not ungrateful.
Love has lasted long this time.
It’s just, she never quite
adored him like the first.
[Poem #38]
This began as a game some bloggers played in 2008, to write about people who'd made an impact, in the same number of words as one's age, every day for a year. I did them less often and went on longer, adding one word each birthday. I stopped in 2016 and incorporated them into my main poetry blog. In 2019 I resumed the project and gave it its own blog again, with a new name, where it may unfold at its own (slow, intermittent) pace. I've labelled these verse portraits, but they're more like quick sketches: mere glimpses, impressions....
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