when she was young
and in the blush of maidenhood
she only had to touch her hair
or bare the nape of her pale neck
and I could touch the stars
. . . . because I loved her so,

nearing the end of things
and facing that which had to come
she only had to smile at me
when lying on her bed of pain
and I could reach beyond the darkened skies
. . . . because loved her so.