A poem to a woman I met who has a severe disability. She later became my wife.
I am drawn in by a quiver
Of her small “W” arms,
A head nod, lifted brow,
A minute spasm radiating
From the heart.
Her CP countenance
Asks more of you
Because she asks more
Of herself and will risk
The giving and the taking.
Her fierce love offers itself
In pride and in contrition.
Even in deepest self-absorption
She seeks a way to love better.
And she draws me in.
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