Hot Stuff

(Photo: Becky Beside a Big Ol' Pile of Balls, San Juan, Puerto Rico, before our 25th Anniversary Cruise)

Perhaps this series of romantic poems has given you a sneak peak inside my psyche.  You may not like that peek. Well, now we'll get sneakier.

The romantic poem below shows very clearly that I am a warm and sensitive man.  I am the type of fella who can sit on the couch, stuff his mouth full of Kit-Kats, and listen to his wife's problems without saying a word.  I mean, I can actually look like I'm interested.  Sometimes I nod.  Sometimes I say affirming words like, "I hear ya', sugar!" or "You betcha, honeybun!"  Later, my wife will fawn over me and, in caress, mention how appreciative she is that I have this caring side to my charming personality.  It's poems like the one below that have kept me in good stead for nearly twenty-seven years and made my wife cry before bed.  This is better than her crying after we go to bed.  The previous does wonders for my low self-esteem and makes me feel like I've actually accomplished something.  Plus, I sleep better.

Well, but I do love my wife.  I wish her a happy birthday and safe passage back from Texas this week.  I hope I will have her around many more years.  She's the only one I can write to.

Tonight

I have decided to love you tonight.
The children are asleep, the dishes dirty,
The glasses empty of ice,
And in this moment I have made my choice
To love you again, to open my hands,
To withhold nothing from you.
Let us forget the misery and despair
Of the world, our work and stress,
And for tonight embrace
The comfort of each other.

I wish to discover

Some secret corner of your soul

Where your pain and heartache hides,

And where our love,

Unspoken, unashamed,

Resides.