By Michael A. Taylor
A thousand silent times each day
I speak to you, my Sweet.
In a thousand unwitnessed ways
I demonstrate my love.
All day my thoughts accompany you
Beside, behind, in front of you.
Unguessed by you
I study and delight in you.
And, maybe sometimes sensed by you -
Though you conclude it is the wind -
It is I who disturbs your hair,
And lightly, so lightly, kisses you.