There is a look I give my love

in public places, where words are inadequate

and inappropriate. No gestures

quite express my fond regard like that little glimmer--

A half-smile, a sideways glance. 

He ignites to it

like I touch his soul with a match. 

I'm not sure how it appears

from the other side of my eyes.

One day, leaving church,

I tossed my look his way.

A man at his side

whom I'd never met

whistled low.

"I sure hope that's  your wife,"

he said, "Or you are in

some kind of trouble."

I kept walking, bemused,

leaving him to explain

or not.