Looking Away

She sometimes lets me kiss her cheek, and sometimes, when her knees feel weak, she grabs my hand to steady her feet, or to help her sit up, so she can sneak over to rest her head upon my chest. She never sees tears of joy well my eyes. If she tries, I look off despite her cries. But she knows all my tricks, wryly smiles, endlessly teases me with endless trials, for she knows her hooks reach to my heart. I love her so, yet within cannot find the reason or rhyme to tell her why. And the looking on her never gets old. Each time she is as sweet to behold as the first; in awe, in love, enraptured.