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He laughs when she challenges him, this newcomer to their block,

But his heckling turns to cheers when she handles all he's got.

His serve she returns with ease, her volleys buckle his pride.

Before he sees he's met his match, she's already at his side,

Teaming with him in doubles against others hitting their court.

And he welcomes the intrusion, his mind's on more than sport.

He wonders if they'll share classes, if she likes to sing or dance.

He hopes to find her at his church, and prays to have that chance.

For this is someone he is sure could be his friend for life.

This is someone special, someone he could make his wife.


She laughs in joy as she recalls all the silly things he did,

The poems with the crazy rhymes, his jealousy over Sid.

How his stray backhand knocked her senseless nearly an entire day.

How he carried her to the doctor, stayed at her side the whole way.

Through all those precious memories she realizes anew

His helping with her studies, walking her home, seeing her through,

The hand of God works in all those things in their lives,

And in that man at the altar, the love burning in his eyes.

And so she runs to him, knowing he'll stay hers for life.

For this is someone special. She will proudly be his wife.

The pain bounces through her like a pinball gone mad,

But she lets it wash over her, concentrating on the lad.

She feels him moving within her, straining to be free.

He's the source of this anguish, but she forgives each misery

And bares the shredding wounds, longing for the prize,

Which comes with welcome hands and a chorus of "ah's" and "aye's."

Her heart melts as the blessed child lays crying against her thigh,

But her joy comes as her husband lifts his new son high.

Three children she's given this man. She would gladly give him more.

For like her God, there's nothing she wouldn't do for the one she adores.


He struggles out of bed, arthritis burning his back and knees,

And he prays that on this morning, she'll regain her memories.

But the stroke has left deep scars, and so she lays there in silent fear,

Gazing at family pictures, not recognizing anything near.

She reels at his touch, but soft words help her understand

That she just might live in this strange house with this caring old man.

And so she lets him serve her breakfast and dress her for the day,

Not seeing the growing wound he bears that it must be this way.

Nothing in his life ever hurt as much as this,

And yet he'd gladly bear still more to repay her for each kiss.

For like His God, there's nothing he wouldn't give for the one he loves.

Like His God, there's nothing he wouldn't give for the one he loves.

— Words and music copyright February 2012, Kirby Lee Davis

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