He loved her for who she was,
not for who she could give him.
He chose the woman, not the womb.
She’d always thought the married
lost their autonomy until she met Her Intended—
who supported her strengths
& strengthened her weaknesses.
She forgot dates,
but not memories;
she forgot times,
but not moments.
He couldn’t give her the world,
but he could share the world that was his—
the children that would be hers.
She built a little bitty house,
but a great big life.
She met an average man,
& became his wife.
She sacrificed her children yet-to-be
for the sake of the child she held
in the cradle nest of her arms.
The love of my life was the love of someone else’s life.
When she passed away,
I became his.