She Wished

When she said, "I love you,"
He would say, "I love you, too,"
But he never said it first
Like she wished that he would do.

Always when she kissed him,
He would kiss her too,
But he never kissed her first
Like she wished he would do.

Then suddenly one day,
She drew her final breath.
Tears were streaming down his face
As he gazed at her in death.

He said, "I love you, Darling,"
Leaned down and kissed her, too.
Too late, at last, he said it first,
Like she wished that he would do.

Copywrite 1994 Ilene Madrigal