If You Forget Me

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If You Forget Me

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.

No Commitment

No Commitment

Ol' Tom's full of charm
rubbing my leg with a feline smile,
hoping for a little lovin' in return.

Not promising much,
just willing to spend a night, maybe two,
before off howlin' for more at another door.

His gorgeous green eyes honestly twinkle
"no commitment".  Perhaps that's why
I offer the porch instead.

by Margaret Bednar, revised November 12, 2018

This tomcat hung out at an old mill where I bought my fresh ground flour mixes.  One nice day I opened my van door and Mr. Tomcat hopped in!  I picked him up and told him he had it made right where he was!  I originally wrote this poem February of 2012 and updated it a bit today.

As you can see, he had a fine home at Red Mill

My son in NYC took in a stray/wild black kitten the other day.  Vet checked and shots and she is living the good life now.   A few years ago he brought home a stray kitten from college who now sleeps at the foot of my bed every night - proof I can't resist them all (or perhpas it is my son I can't say no to?)

this is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Tuesday Platform"