Memory on Automatic

I come up the steps

with bundles of shopping

and see you again, 

opening the door

in pyjamas and socks

and your faded old grey top

with the blue writing:

'Life's a Beach'.

Under the soft white hair

your face is beaming

to see me home, even though

you've enjoyed the movie

and your talk with the Respite Carer —

who is grabbing at the waistband

of the grey top, to stop you falling

as you reach, tottering, to try and take 

my heavy bags and help me indoors.

All the while that overjoyed smile.

Oh, my love!

It's one of many sweet memories

that arise automatically

in their settings.

And then, automatically,

the tears follow.

Poetic Asides April Poem A Day Challenge 2013, 24: auto (which I'm interpreting as 'automatic').