July 7th, 2004

Tricking my wife

I gave my Poetry of Love talk this evening. I had a 15-page handout of poems I was going to read aloud. At the scheduled end of the session, I asked everyone to turn to the last page, page 15. I looked up at my wife and said, "Marsha, you don't have a page 15." That's when she knew I was going to read her a love poem. I didn't put it in her handout, because I wanted to surprise her. She figured it out instantaneously. Smart woman.

It was a brand new poem, written a week ago.

Here it is, as the rhyme of the day:

One More

I’ve written many love poems – what’s one more?
Some would say I’ve written far too many
And that it’s time to stop. But it’s uncanny.
Tell me “don’t do it,” and I go straight for
Whatever fruit’s forbidden. So, stand back.
Here’s one more love poem added to my pack.

Thirty years we’ve lived together,
Seen our share of darkest weather,
Seen our share of sunlight, too.
That’s the life I’ve shared with you.

From the moment that we met,
I knew that I would not forget
Those sparkling eyes or ripe full lips,
Roman nose or rounded hips,
Burned into my fevered brain
There forever to remain.

When I look at you today,
I somehow see you just the way
You looked that night. It’s rather strange
That I grow old and you don’t change.

But if, my dear, you’d care to dance
A few more rounds, we have a chance
To see another thirty spun
One on one, around the sun.