Platonic Love In Envy Lives Poem by Roger Gerald Hicks

Lucky husband doubtlessly
you take Celia for granted- your right.
But perhaps you haven't inspected her closely-
lately-
at least not in flattering light.
Her hands show her age admittedly,
but Celia's face, O that face!
Could it not launch a thousand fights?

Two decades I've watched her eyes
her persona faking wise majority,
camouflaging perplexity
and hiding, perhaps, mordant grief.

Now! Today!
What a titanium/cotton-candy admix-
woman-
she's become, and how it shows in her face!
Face that has stared at despair and disgrace,
opened and dumped herself out
like a purse
and myriad chimeras traced-
Traced and traced.

That face! Those eyes!
So compassionate- and wise!
How did you acquire such a treasure?
Or did you provide the nurturing ambiance
in which she's so magnificently flowered?
Suspecting the latter,
I could never intervene-
would never come between-
a sculptor and his Venus.

Guilt's sorrow will never
blight Celia's radiant face.
I'll just(from afar)
admire her seams.
Perhaps...
Yes, damnit!
I'll cast her in a few dreams!

O lucky husband, you take her for granted;
doubtlessly, for granted.
Of course you take her for granted.
It's your right.