Love

My grandparents were married for sixty years
Before my grandmother died at the age of eighty seven.
When asked after the funeral what it was about her
That kept him loyal for all those years,
My grandfather didn't mention my grandmother's looks,
Though she was beautiful,
Nor her wit, or grace,
Or charm. No, he said it was a sense that
There was some secret she was keeping from him,
Something that he could not simply ask about,
As if she were a story whose ending
Always remained a mystery.
When asked if the secret was revealed
Now that she was dead,
He smiled, shook his head, and said,
"Some things are best left unknown."