how to string together
the words to convey
how much i love you?
my goal
to linger like the fragrance a strawberry
you carry upon your breath all the day
my hope
to pervade your thoughts
much the same as
the ocean’s waves break relentlessly on the sand
my dilemma
to find a way to let you know
i exist
sure
we can pretend
that our differences
don’t really matter
that the drizzle outside
is just a wet blanket
like the one
that covers us
when we try to have fun
and
when we kiss goodnight
we’re not really going
to bed mad
but what good does it do
to make believe we’re happy
they say
love is hard
it’s work
but it has to be
worth working for
we loved
once
i still love you
mostly
but the grass
the drizzle falls on
seems greener
and you
are tired of seeing me
look out the window
Despite the rain
I will walk slowly by your side
because you’re holding my hand,
and I never want to let go.
“Why doesn’t she want a pot of flowers? They ‘cheer up the kitchen’ just as much as a long-stemmed rose that will die in a week.”
“Don’t ask me, man. Women are crazy. Hey, did you see that guy burn out at that intersection back there? So cool.”
“Pfft. Yeah. My wife doesn’t like it when I do that. Says it’s a waste of tires.”
“Haha. That’s women for you.”
I think the wind blew us together, one stormy night. How else would you explain the randomness of our meeting? I, alone at the bus stop and you, pulling up in your car to give me a ride. You told me I’d missed the last bus. And it was raining so hard. When we got to my house you offered me your umbrella. You came back to get it the next day. And then, we kissed. It was the best kiss I’d ever had.
We were meant to be together, you and I. But for a fair night, it would never have been.
This post is part of Stream of Consciousness Saturday. You can find the prompt here. Check it out and join in the fun!
Fragile as I seem
Only one thing can break me
It is your leaving
To usher the day in,
a coffee, made with love,
a kiss goodbye,
and I’m off.
Though my hours are long
and my patience sometimes short,
I come home each evening,
a dinner, made with love,
a kiss goodnight,
and that’s us, day out.
***
Slog is the word of the day at The Daily Post.
Dear Diary,
Today was my twenty-second birthday. It was also our wedding day. Marvin was fabulous as usual. He became proficient at sign language, just for me, even though he knows I can speak. He remained the only one who knew for eight whole years until today.
My first words out loud to anyone but him were, “I do.”
Mom and Dad think Marvin is responsible for a miracle. Only my husband (my husband! It’s going to take a while to get used to it!) knows my secret. He vowed today, privately during our first dance, to keep it to the grave, along with his everlasting love for me.
The end.
Our challenge at Story A Day September was to write in the first person.
Melody’s self-consciousness at not being able to sing caused her to maintain the facade that she couldn’t speak. Her wish to vocalize came with her first crush.
His name was Marvin. He was tall, handsome, older than her, and he had a place in the school choir. Like Melody, he couldn’t hold a note in a bucket. One day as she walked home from school, following him, she tripped and fell on the sidewalk. She let out an exclamation and he came running. When she explained her dilemma to him, he promised to keep her secret.
Melody was in love.
To be continued…
Melody, Part One
I wrote this drabble in response to the Story A Day challenge.
Reduce a landmass to a village
with fierce determination,
a soul filled with poetry,
a heart that beats with the rhythm of Great Lake’s waves,
and the love of your people.
Enormous respect.
Kingston, Ontario, Canada
Linda G. Hill 