An Ode To D.

Today is my hubby’s birthday. Now, I don’t write romantic poetry. I’ve tried, but it’s just not my style. I’m much more comfortable writing about depression and bleakness. However, I’ve written this poem for my husband. He is the best thing that ever happened to me, and I love him with every fibre of my being. (See, I don’t even write romantically in my introduction.)

An Ode To D.

One click and my life
changed;
one cautious reply sent to
another.
A reaching out of souls,
both shrouded in pain.
Living fractions of lives,
with shards of dirty glass
cutting
though the ropes that held us together.
Frayed ends all we had left,
we were running
out of time and
will,
then we
connected . . .
Through dogs called Jake
and Edgar Allen Poe
we mixed ourselves into
one,
a blend of love emerging.
I’m so pleased we’re both a little
crazy
because if we weren’t we
wouldn’t have risked it;
but we did,
and I’m glad
the pull of our magnetic hearts
attracted
each other.
So now you’re living in a country
so cold, your chattering teeth have their own
repertoire.
I’m sorry, honey,
but we’re worth it, right?

 

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