My silent songs of praise seem to follow
your every move. I celebrate your hands,
delicate as rain, aligning brief rows
of biscuits in buttered pans, rainbow bands
of roses among our school of vases.
Love, I offer mute paeans when you smile
at seeing me, your eyes brilliant phases
of moonlight, your soft kiss my chamomile,
instant taste of peace. When I sense you feel
pain or sadness, my being intones chants
of hope, prayers for help, simply to reveal
how I may salve your suffering. I dance
within to rhythms of your breathing, your
heartbeat, your slightest touch my saintly cure.
Roger Armbrust
December 25, 2009
