I love my husband. Truly, truly love him. But he is not what you would call a romantic soul. His idea of a romantic night is the typical dinner and a movie. probably a macho film. you know. blood, guns, angry men or monsters, maybe dramatic hard rock thrown in for good measure...God love him. I've come to expect it and I take comfort in the safety of his unchanging ways; pleasure in the steady rhythms of our relationship. I quit looking for love notes on the mirror or presents on unexpected occasions years ago. He doesn't work that way. It's enough for him to rub my back when it hurts and make sure the coffee is made and hot in the carafe for when I wake up. Or how he works long, long hours. Or how he takes a moment out of his day to text me to tell me to have a good day. So imagine my great surprise when he composed this little poem. So surprised really (I could hear Gomer Pyle in my head "well, surprise, surprise") that when I read it I actually had the nerve to ask him where he found it. ....And he wasn't upset even when Noah googled it to be sure it was authentic. In fact, he pointed out a misspelled word for him and then quietly smiled and said he loved me. What a good man.
look at you every day.
Stay with me; so I have
something to look forward to each day
Love me; so my life is
complete
--
1 comments:
Jenny,
Thanks for the comment on my blog. You're off to a well written start but tell us more!
Sorry I don't have contact info on Brees Buzz; if you'd like, email me at breeh@comcast.net
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