S: Debbie and Vince August 14, 2010
FC: Debbie and Vince August 14, 2010
4: Love does not consist of gazing at each other, but in looking together in the same direction.
17: She asked me, "Where's my poem?" It was written as we whipped our way through the steep hills of West Virginia, and I left all I've ever known to follow you. It's written every time I look into your eyes, and see your growing belly. We'll add more lines still, as the awkward stomping of fat toddler feet fell the house. This is a poem without a last line, as we grow together in suffering, beauty and joy. ~Vince Bank