In me she sees an engineer
although arithmetic is not my subject
In me she sees a writer of many books
although I hardly read any
In me she sees a philosopher
although I hardly shift my paradigms
In me this woman sees what I can't see
She rejoices in the things which I cannot find joy in
She listens to the sorrows which my life brings
She characterises our relationship with hugs and kisses
Yet I am taken back by how
a few years ago I thought she was out to get me
a wolf in sheep's clothing
But now as I am to become something she is,
a mother...
I wonder...
How could I have missed that the basis
of all the groundings and fights was love?
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