For all the many years we’ve been together
I’ve always been amazed how I know it’s you
coming toward me even from a long way off.
Before I can make out the brown of your eyes
and hair, or identify jeans or sport coat,
before I can glimpse the features of your face
or the tell-tale ridge of your one curly rib,
I recognize you’re you by the way you walk.
You can be a football field away, on the
other side of a painted sea of parked cars,
making your way to me through a throng of suits
and party dresses at a corporate event,
and I can tell it is you by the rhythm
of your walk, your arms loose, your shoulders square,
an unselfconscious athlete going somewhere.
After loving you for 50 years, I’m still
happy to see you coming towards me. What hurts
is, now I recognize you by the way you limp.
Ann Keiffer July, 2010
Photo Credit: VadO on flickr