On Monday night, I had a surprise 50th birthday party for Becky (I thank you for your cards and letters). She was surprised when guests began showing up at the house. I had made her believe we were going out to a very nice restaurant for caviar and Cabernet . . . but I'm sure, if she had thought about this, she would have realized it was a lie, as I have never taken her out to eat at any restaurant fancier than Wendy's. Value menu. No dessert. And she picks up the tip.
But she seemed surprised. She also feigns surprise when I hand over a romantic poem. "You wrote this?" she'll ask. "Or you copied this from a book?" She's often incredulous when it comes to me writing romantic poetry to her. Still, here's a nice sonnet she wouldn't mind if I shared. Happy Birthday, Becky!
(Note: men, beware of using poems like this willy-nilly with your woman. These are powerful forces that cannot be tamed!)
Full Moon
This moon tonight has never shone before,
Nor cast its light among these darkened trees:
No aid to Homer as he spun his lore,
No comfort to the death of Socrates.
There was no moon like this among the flowers
Wet with Roman dew, nor when the rain
Blessed multitudes and kept faith in the hours
Before the golden age of Charlemagne.
This moon was kept in secret for tonight,
For such a time as this, where, idly by
We rest inside each other in its light.
And in embrace, we stare into the sky
Which gives no answer, nor asks the neutral night
To tell us this is love, nor reasons why.
No comments:
Post a Comment