Tonight I lingered over your name,

the delicate assembly of vowels

a voice inside my head.

You were sleeping when I arrived.

I stood by your bed

and watched the sheets rise gently.

I knew what slant of light

would make you turn over.

It was then I felt 

the highways slide out of my hands.

I remembered the old men

in the west side cafe,

dealing dominoes like magical charms.

It was then I knew,

like a woman looking backward,

I could not leave you,

or find anyone I loved more.

From Is This Forever, or What? Poems and Paintings from Texas by Naomi Shihab Nye. Copyright © 2004 by Naomi Shihab Nye. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers. No part of this book may be used or repoduced without written permission from HarperCollins Publishers, 1350 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10019. All rights reserved.