Crow’s Feet

Her face is a map with no directions.
No directions and no key.
No pathways marked for you, my friend.
It’s a private map for me.

Learned these blessed twenty years,
I’ve seen it change and grow.
I’ve learned the frown which says ‘don’t stop’,
the smile which says ‘please go’.

I’ve mapped the tear-stains on her cheeks,
surveyed every laughter line.
Those crow’s feet mark no ways or stays
but twenty years of love and time.