American Gothic

She searches his profile,
Taking his lead of guardedness.
"What if the neighbors knew
The tales of his wrinkles?"
The salty smells of building
A barn, a home, a life,
The cries of a baker's dozen
Raising to adulthood.
His facial stone masks
The searing work, sweat, love, passion,
The dashing young man
Who promised to care.
The stern expression
Cannot conceal
The tenderness of his eyes,
His rough hands to hold,
His lips to taste
As they grow old.
No, the neighbors
must not know.