He felt his heart fly

There he was crawling on his knees,

He was down on all his fours,

Looking in vain on the rough floors.

Looking for something he seemed to have lost,

They were not cheap, and they certainly cost,

Quite a lot of money to have them made,

An amount he rather reluctantly paid.

He just had to find them as soon as he could,

This was certainly not looking very good.

A hundred feet walked swiftly by,

He could only see shoes of all colors,

Hurrying, tripping, and rushing by.

He still searched and moved his hands around,

On that dusty, musty, and grey ground.

Would he find them he wondered?

Then just as he was about to give up,

A tender hand patted him on the shoulder gently.

“Do these belong to you?” said the soft voice,

He turned around, he had no other choice.

He looked at the prettiest face he had ever seen,

He blinked as she handed him his lost lenses.

He was quite blind without them in his eyes,

She was so pretty; he felt his heart fly,

She was more lovely than a hundred butterflies.

That happened almost two years ago,

His heart still skipped a beat,

His legs trembled to his feet,

Whenever he saw the love of his life,

Still by his side as lover and wife.