Hopeless Romantic Like Me

As of this week I believe I have enough published "love" poems to round out a collection . . . should there be a publisher out there who's just champing (or is it chomping?) at the bit to print another book.  As of the writing of this blog, I have a sizable stack of these love poems poised on the windowsill in my home office, and I hope to show them to Becky next week (or whenever she can schedule me into her crowded calendar and we can sit down for a five-minute conversation over a steaming can of Chef-Boy-R-Dee Ravioli.)
 
I'd like to prove to her that I am as romantic as any guy who receives his sustenance from a can and washes his socks on a quadrennial calendar.  After the reading of the poems, perhaps we can polish off a half quart of butter pecan ice cream that I discovered in the basement freezer.  Most of it is freezer burned, but we should be able to salvage a few tablespoons.  And after this amazing repast . . . who knows?

Still, here's one poem that I enjoyed writing . . . and as memory serves, I wrote this one riding on the lawn mower.  It's not bad for a "head" poem, and I think it's one of the most romantic poems my wife has never read.  Anyway . . . hope you like it.  The editors did.

The Dream Voyage of Christopher Columbus

I have sailed for you over familiar waters,
Night's tranquility and days deep blue,
Sunlight spread like a pall over the slick decks
Hastening our rendezvous.

And I have glimpsed green lands plush with fruit
Lost in these wonders taciturn,
Pressing toward home through uncharted waters
And the point of no return.