You said I love you for the first time
as you stepped from my car;
in a hurry to check us in at the crowded restaurant
while the car and I were headed for the gravel lot.

In that brief moment my hobnailed pause,
unintendedly cruel, must have made you feel
you had betrayed your vulnerable heart.

I considered your courage as you hesitated.
Disarmed by your words, but with clarity in the fore,
I echoed them back to you.

As I walked back, the humble pebbles and stones at my feet,
once common and plain, now seemed to be diamonds,
dancing with light where they had always been.

Together again at our table with a view,
we looked up from our worn menus
as the waiter queried, part of a practiced greeting
without really seeing, "Beautiful day isn't it?"