The years have etched the lines of duty deep, A single chair, the only rest I keep. My shoulders learned the curve of every load, And love became a map I hadn't strode. The fantasy, it whispers in the night, Not gold or gain, but just a guiding light. A quiet shore beyond the daily strife, Where I am simply me, and not life. I picture hands that reach across the foam, Not asking for a thing, just drawing home. A foreign tongue that makes the burdens cease, A strength beside me, offering true peace. To be the fragile one, for just one day, To watch my worries simply float away. To feel the ownership I long to lose, And find the easy comfort he might choose. No need to plan, to budget, or to strive, Just cherished, seen, and truly, deeply alive. A moment where the mirror shows grace, Reflected in a loved and loving face.