My lady is so naive
she still waves at trains
whenever they pass by
just hoping that the engineers might see
and someday, perhaps, to make her day
they'll pull the whistle
loudly
just for her.

Just for her.

So shy is she in normal ways
but those fellows are quite far away,
so she feels free,
so free to be
the funny young girl
she'll always be.

She'll never change.

She rattles on about her books
the stories that she reads.
So many stories
she's read,
so many books 
she loves, as she loves me.

She loves me.

She has always read,
had books in hand,
and studied assiduously. 
but it was me that taught her
that she could always return again
to read them 
one more time,
what a pleasure
that still might be
as she returns to me.

Just to me.

I'm looking at the face
I love,
and she's so happy
with smiles, with
the animation
in her eyes,
and once again I see.

I see.

As I feel the way it's always been,
the love
that still fills me,
I could almost weep 
as I feel once more
what often I forget,
how deeply grandly I was blessed
when she fell in love with me.

With me.

And just how much,
yes just how much
I feel the love
in me.