This was
the first time
I saw you.
Staring at you,
someone whispered, “Here he is.”
My gaze became judgmental.
Do you remember?
A familiar ache rose inside me,
like a child waiting for someone who had promised to return,
longing through the quiet of too many hours.
A voice said, “Staring made him
uncomfortable.”
I knew:
“Your spouse is watching; take your eyes away.”
I knew, but I could not.
At the same time, I felt powerless and helpless—yet you saved me.
You turned with your whole body, not just
your head or your eyes.
“What can be done for you?”
That day in 825,
I had no idea
I was about to fall so completely in love with you.