for Anne, after seeing Andrew Wyeth's portrait of his wife...


I looked at her face, painted
by hands that loved her,
made her come alive
like the wedding day
photo,
two smiling faces
next to one another
looking into the future.


The lines of her face,
painted, and frozen on celluloid,
a perfect mirror
one for the other,
evidence that two eyes can see
as clearly
as one.


Placed side by side
there's no mistaking
face for face--
lines and colors and shadows
showing more than
two dimensions of love.


But you love a lover of words,
not a purveyor of shades and
pigments.
How will the world
know that it's you,
with kind eyes and scented hair
(with its recent frosting),
the mind of a chemist
and faithful soul,
heart of a mother
and teacher,
love and lover
of my life...
How would they know
it's you?