For He who is Her All

She waited with bated expectation for the man who governed her world.  He would present just as soon as the silver lining to their already magnificent dream, appeared.  They knew it would happen, and on most days she was able to forgo the wart of worry that was slowly metastasizing on her forehead, for the Chardonnay conversationalists she touted to in the evening.  They seemed to understand her speech as she recalled the memories of her man and they would nod in agreement as her eyes drifted upward toward the window with query of a new arrival.  Fridays were her favorite day because they closed the gap on all of the concern brewed in 1-degree weather throughout the week.

She remedied to remind him at each turn of conscience that he was the very reason for everything in her life.  Often, he would smile, get a warmed expression and remind her of the same.  The onslaught of romanticism would grow each time that she saw him and somewhat sicken her Chardonnay guests.  It was worth it though.

Never would he be caught, senility or not, without knowing - with absolute certainty, that she loved him and that destiny had befallen their marriage.