A Heart's Window

A moment ago we were young,
but not without a care.
We cared about a lot—too much,
too many random things.
Things so far out of control,
complex, trivial things.
We should have danced in rain,
kissed in the meadow.
Instead of worrying so much
about the changing world.
They were all against us,
a million reasons why.
The pull of shifting society
had its grip on us.
But your eyes, your magic eyes,
reflected a new me—
the one I always sought to be,
made true in you.
Oh, what I would give again
to hold you once more,
to whisper in your ear what I know:
all we will be as one.
And in your loving gaze, those eyes
would tell me the same.
For they have always known
the words unspoken,
of a love too precious ever
to be spoiled in word.
A journey of love becoming
in time’s carving flow.
Now, a little older, I see you—
a beauty only I can see:
the person, mother, friend, lover,
my heart’s kind keeper.
We cared too much, I’m afraid,
about far too little.
But I close my eyes sometimes
and still see yours:
a young bride, mother, woman,
with that tender gaze.
Yes, I cared a lot about a lot
of foolish things.
But never—no, never—was I wrong
in caring about you.

 Nicholas Campos September 2025