I'm that man who always forgets to buy cards for his wife on anniversaries...except that I'm a woman. Luckily, my husband thinks that the greeting card industry is a racket and finds expressing emotions through the words of a corporation creepy.
Last year to express my love for Mike, I posted this excellent video, which I'm still proud of, as he'll always be the Ron to my Hermione. (He gulps a lot.) I also wrote him this blog. And this blog. Wow, are you sick to death yet of hearing about him?
Nonetheless, for my 6th anniversary present, I shall give him the gift of embarrassment (my embarrassment) by posting here a poem I wrote for him on the grassy lawn of the Charolais house before moving away from him to Amsterdam.
You, my friend,
are the particular embodiment
of a thousand songs, dances and tales.
And, lucky me,
I just happened upon you,
a solemn hymn, a merry jig, a classic epic.
You, like an imp in a pimpernel, startled me--
a small, glimmering reflection
of the undying universal light.
The yellow twinkle of fireflies
dancing and darting in the twilight
of leafy green shadows.
The rich froth of
on my lips.
The smell of the
salty sea air that
wistfully whips my air.
The long, low call of
a train at night,
signaling desire and a faroff place.
Love you, Mikey.