Best

In the beginning
she liked it best by candlelight
or fire glow,
subdued lights to mask
her imaginary flaws.

Tenderly
he taught her that
to see love,
with all its imperfections,
is as vital
as the making thereof.

Then she learnt to like it best
in sunlight, in deep grass
by slow rivers,
his hands flowing over her body
like the river
breaching its banks.
In the lazy rumpled bed,
morning sun smoothing the sheets
as he stretched towards her,
reaching for her love.
And in the night-wrapped garden
to a cricket chorus
where he took her on her knees.


Later, as they aged
it was best unplanned.
Best when he greeted her
unexpectedly rampant,
proud, smiling his familiar smile.
and she would be his once more.
His best girl.