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I remember the first glimpse of you,
how you rocked the tank top,
arms strong and sexy.
You wore tight jeans (that didn't go unnoticed)
yet it was your hands that captured me:
elegant and strong, politely expressive (holding your beer)
nails carefully clipped,
and when I looked into your eyes,
I melted. The bon-fire before us flickered
and I blamed my flush on the flames.
I remember the excitement of that night,
your interest in ... me, and I, not exactly a romantic
(I'm far too practical) felt like a princess.
I hold dear your opinion, as fine men
are to be treasured. Our years filled
with six children and (according to you)
far to many animals.
My fondest wish to grow old together,
enjoy the fruits of our labor,
watch you learn how to relax,
read something other than medical journals
and if dementia raises its ugly head,
if you forget me, rest assured
I will hold your hand, live on memories,
continue to love and care for you,
(as you would for me) my dear, sweet prince.
by Margaret Bednar, November 11, 2018
I already know what my husband's reaction will be. He will roll his eyes and shake his head - he doesn't do sappy very well and I don't do love poems very well. But it is all true ;)
* I did read this to him and HE said it wasn't a bon-fire but a beer keg. Hmmm. I'm not so sure. Anyway, it's more poetic with a fire :)
linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads' - Sanaa's Challenge - All in November's Soaking Mist" - Our frame of reference is the title of Neruda's poem.
My fondest wish to grow old together,
enjoy the fruits of our labor,
watch you learn how to relax,
read something other than medical journals
and if dementia raises its ugly head,
if you forget me, rest assured
I will hold your hand, live on memories,
continue to love and care for you,
(as you would for me) my dear, sweet prince.
by Margaret Bednar, November 11, 2018
I already know what my husband's reaction will be. He will roll his eyes and shake his head - he doesn't do sappy very well and I don't do love poems very well. But it is all true ;)
* I did read this to him and HE said it wasn't a bon-fire but a beer keg. Hmmm. I'm not so sure. Anyway, it's more poetic with a fire :)
linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads' - Sanaa's Challenge - All in November's Soaking Mist" - Our frame of reference is the title of Neruda's poem.
8 comments:
Such a full circle poem, the sweet first meeting, right up until the promise for when memory begins to fade, and beyond.......gorgeous.
I loved going on this journey with you. I have a thing about hands too :)
Oh Margaret this is such a beautiful, gentle and heartening tribute. I smiled at the beginning and clutched my heart near the end.. May nothing ever come between you and your beloved 💖 Thank you so much for writing to the prompt 😊 and wishing you a very happy birthday 🍰🍷💐💒
This is perfect... love how you made it yours and changed it... caring for someone with dementia is a strong commitment...
Oh, precious memories, they hold us together even if one of us falls apart. Love this
I love everything about this piece: the notes in parenthesis, the way I can almost see you cover your face through the ink (because this is not your kind of poem), the promise at the closing, the reality of the poem...
...the way you read it to your inspiration, talked about it, and then shared that moment with us. I can't stop smiling at how lovely this is.
Ah, this is so very sweet! Love the memory of the first meeting — it's something to be treasured. :-)
Late visit — the link with the prompt didn't work for me; it suggested that I can't access it through my account. I am visiting through your comment on Kerry's post. Hope others didn't encounter the same issue.
I don't think it was the hands...it was those tight jeans...Tsk ...little minx. The Prince did not stand a chance:)
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