Why I Lost My Glasses
By Gary Wade

I like as well my view of you
since I misplaced my glasses
though I see less well the seasoning gray
within your midnight hair,
the tiny lines above your cheek,
incipient down of matronly mustache,
and the mark near your ear
from a third-grade playground swing.
~
I hear as well
your hmmm when you read
the second paragraph of anything,
your small laugh of pleased surprise, and
the crinkling of wrappers
on saltwater taffy you gave me
from what a friend sent you from Delaware.
~
I taste as well
the slice of apple
you pass across the table at lunch
and the mushrooms you pile on the edge of my plate
on Chinese day.
~
Those glasses cost a hundred-forty-two dollars
but I found owning them too expensive,
which is why I lost them,
so I can sit and see you
as through an old window
that rain runs down in August
to blur the lines of intruding autumn.
~
Affection needs not accuracy
and minute points revealed
and remembering draws the finer lines
in life at middle age --
I don't need aid to see
that when you smile
your life shines through.

© 1997 by Gary Wade