His body wouldn't even keep the same form
as it stretched to contain
the abundance of adoration.
He would see the world differently,
as he adjusted to the reality that in this other life,
this side-pocket of joy,
that he was the sun and the moon and the stars.
His stride would lengthen, quicken -
become fully jaunty.
He would be worshipped -
with her mouth, her hands, her words.
He would float above
viewing the whole of his existence from a new angle,
with her love as the filter
through which he saw himself and everything around him.
But only if he let himself.
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