Persistant Hope
For as long as I have known her, I hoped that one day she would be mine. Even when she married another, even when she became mother to his children, I hoped she would be mine.
Time passes and now she is alone. He husband killed in the war, her children grown with families of their own, and I stand beside her in friendship as I always have.
Her hand reaches for mine. The softness of her touch, the light and love in her eyes as she looks up at me and I need hope no longer.
She is mine.