Odd Anniversary

Saturday was my 28th wedding anniversary . . . which was, in fact, one of the oddest weekends I've had in the past twenty-eight years.  On Friday my wife and I moved my son into his dorm room at Vincennes U., and after a long trek back home, we spent the remainder of the day/night loading my daughter's wedding gifts into two trucks for a Saturday morning trek to Bloomington and back.

Year 28, then, was marked by immense change accompanied by the strain of carting nearly two tons of material across the state.  Tired?  Make that exhaustion.

In spite of the pace, however, there was always time for romance:  including several Starbucks drive-bys in which I proclaimed, "Don't you just love the iced mocha?"; a hot breakfast at McDonalds where I reminded Becky that she looked just like the Hamburgler; and a reminder to my wife that I did plan to write her an anniversary card, but golly-gee, I just had so much to do what with pulling my hamstring and all . . . .

Still, I do have an ample supply of love poems.  Always do.  And I've had a goodly number of them published this year (most of which my wife has not read).

So . . . here's one from the Gipper (to be exact, a poem I wrote on April 27 in my daily poetic journal).  Hope she likes the sentiments while she's applying the Icy Hot.

What We Do Not Say When We Speak of Love

When I met you with your friends

I feigned to say “I love you” in the worst way,

But I am not given to public display

Or to romantic ends of chance.

And so I smiled and nodded—

A hint you understood with an affirming glance

As we might choose to reminisce 

What sign you are, or fingerprint,

Or even if you steal my love without a kiss,

You know exactly what I meant.