Acrostic Of Your Name #3 Poem by Doris Cornago

Reason for this poem is not this poet
But having lived with you in a bucket
My baby is such a silly term but
Feelings softly fill me when
I see your eyes in my
Memory, soft lights
Radiating from
Them without
Guile, not
Brusque
No
Pride
At all, but
Truthful like
A baby touching
My face, seeing it
For the first time, probing
Lightly on its surface, like breeze
On water, barely ruffling the surface
But knowing what's contained beneath
Every wrinkle, every pucker, admiring the
Texture of what has gone before, unjudgmentally