A Matter Of Opinion

Some folks might say you’re “picky.” Well, it’s one such word they’d use …

and that depends entirely on who’s expressing views.

“Persnickety,” “particular,” “fastidious,” or such,

can all be used to say that, well, perhaps you care too much.

And though I see how “anal” might describe your special zeal,

this girl prefers “meticulous,” which lends a different feel.

Dear, I need words with loving connotations to give praise.

Assiduous intentness manifests in sexy ways,

and there’s no doubt about it. You get everything just right.

You’ve got the perfect technique down; you demonstrate each night.

So I don’t mind you taking time and wanting things just so,

(yes, even when it’s good enough, and I wish we could go).

I know that when it’s my turn, you will take your time the same,

and that gives rise to ecstasy that makes me call your name.

So, fussy and punctilious are compliments, indeed.

You’re vigilant, self-disciplined, and know just what I need.

You’re ever-s0-0bservant, and your work is so precise.

Bravissimo, sweet man! Your eye for detail’s really nice.

Missing You

 

I tried the best distraction I could, visiting with friends …

to give myself some company until your journey ends.

I needed something marvelous to entertain my brain,

to keep my heart from bursting as I slowly go insane.

Although those friends are tried and true, I missed you just as much.

We talked of gods and man, the state of life, the world, and such.

No matter what the subject, though, my thoughts would turn to you,

no substitute available to last the two weeks through.

I sit and count the moments till you’re in my arms again,

here, soaking up the atmosphere we’ve conjured in our den.

I learned that while you’re gone, our home is where I want to be,

within the walls that witness all our witty repartee.

Your smell is in a bottle; I can douse myself each day,

and walk around imagining you offered me a spray.

The book you last were reading’s on the nightstand by our bed.

I use the same shampoo you use to groom your golden head.

And though a saucer’s never ’neath my cup of morning joe,

I think it’s cute you use one, so I do, too, when you go.

I have our family albums, and our portraits on the wall.

I wait with bated breath until the next time that you call.

I clear my afternoon to Skype and hear about your trip,

and know that when you say “a crisp,” you really mean a chip.

I long for it to be the time to go get in the car,

to fetch you from the airport once you’ve landed from afar,

to bring you home and lock the door and throw away the key,

and keep you right where you belong, alongside l’il ol’ me.

Splat

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*picture courtesy of PeterDargatz on pixabay.com

I’ve never observed you before with that look in your eyes,

your hair at attention, the veins bulging thick on your neck.

It took me a minute to comprehend, for me to realize

that you threw the punch that had put him face-down on the deck!

I promise you we were just talking; it’s not how it looked.

But still, it’s a compliment, you so protective and stressed.

I know that if he’d laid a finger, his goose would be cooked.

You sure made your point. He’s aware it’s for you that I’m dressed.

I’ve never before had a man start a fight for my hand,

and now that one has, there’s no need to repeat all this fuss.

You let me know that when it counts, my man will take a stand

and fight to ensure we two live our lives out as an “us.”

A Regular Day

*picture courtesy of GLady on pixabay.com

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  I breathe him in and taste his chest and face.

The forehead kiss he leans down to bestow.

That signifies that we are both in place.

I’m ever grateful on this ride to go.

(He says he wants to absorb me.)

The shadows catch the contours of his neck.

I take the role of lock, and he, the key.

I am but here on Earth…I have to check.

How still, his head, whose body’s slamming me–

(He could balance an egg on it.)

A glutton he has forced my body be.

I’m ruined now for any other sport.

Still twice a day…this gift he gives to me.

Methinks that none would credit my report.

(The look on his face is Mercy.)

I thrust and pull his body into mine.

He’s fluid, steady, powerful and hard….

We seat ourselves where lovers come to dine

and go about our love with no holds barred.

(I want to be absorbed.)

 Men since the dawn of time have wondered how,

and wanted to give what he gives with ease.

Of all the men, then, he should take a bow.

His lady’s first and he is set to please.

(She is also second.)

A healthy beast with stamina untold,

his graceful ways are far beyond just apt.

At full stride, he’s a vision to behold,

and when he’s done, I’m nothing less than rapt.

(He’s one of those people who’s good at everything.)

Honey-Do

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Honey bun, I need to get your help around the house.

Visitors are coming in a week.

Here’s a list, a couple things, that you can do to help.

Otherwise, I think I’m gonna freak.

I am with the kids from early dawn to setting sun.

I know that you have a job and all.

I’m still working all day even if it is inside,

teaching kids to speak and eat and crawl.

First of all, you’ve gotta mow the lawn, I’m begging, please.

Also, do the edging while you’re there.

I think I saw some anthills that “we” should get taken care of…

and I wasn’t quite sure if you were aware.

Also I’ve been putting off requests to mend the fence.

I know you’re already swamped at work.

I gotta keep reminding you so someday it will happen.

So, I’m sorry if I come off like a jerk.

Power-wash the house, ’cause dirt’s been caking on for years.

I just figure while you’re still outside…

Oh…and please take care of all the vines behind the fence.

Last year they dried out and all have died.

Sweep the back porch, clean the pool, and dust off that old grill.

Sift the sand box (to remove dog poop).

Then replant some flowers in the empty pots that sit and take

up all the room we have on our front stoop.

Propped against the carport are some boxes to break down,

underneath them there are leaves to rake.

I thought I’d take care of them but haven’t done it yet.

So I know their presence there is my mistake.

Hmmmmmm…….

When this started out, I had some indoor things in mind, too.

 But I don’t seem to be getting past our yard.

When I was a kid I thought my parents both were lazy…

I guess owning homes and raising kids is hard!

*Picture courtesy of Nemo on pixabay.com

First Crush

I can see the gray that’s made its way into your beard.

I can see your middle bulging out.

I can’t decide if I should really tell you how I felt.

Read this and you’ll know without a doubt.

I had been in love with you since first I saw your face.

I was right there with you all along.

There were times I know you thought that you were all alone.

I wanted so to tell you you were wrong.

Sometimes you would say things that would give me grains of hope.

I would dream that you could love me back.

But I kept it fantasy in case you’d break my heart

by showing, where your love would be, a lack.

I didn’t think you’d want me so I never took the chance.

Finally, I realized, nor did you.

I took that as a signal and I moved on with my life…

the hardest thing I ever had to do.

But I did move on and I’m so very glad I did.

I see you there alone and growing old.

I’m so much more happy than I’d ever be with you.

I know that from your stance that must sound cold.

I still care quite deeply for you, and I always will.

I’m just glad I married whom I did.

Turns out, when you grew up, you’re a very different man

from whom I thought you’d be when you and I were kids.

I hope you can find happiness, however that may be.

I noticed that you haven’t found it yet.

Of all the people I could wish it for, I’d wish for you,

my first crush, whom I never will forget.

Making Do

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Absence makes the heart grow fonder. That’s what people say.

I guess I’m forced to test the theory now that you’re away.

I know that it’s for business and you won’t stay past a week.

It’s still too long to go without your kisses on my cheek.

I’ll live in your blue sweatshirt and I’ll spray it with cologne.

I’ll bring the cats to bed with me so I won’t sleep alone.

I’ll buy another toothbrush and I’ll put it next to mine.

I’ll tell myself that while you’re gone, I’m gonna be just fine.

I’ll put on all the TV shows I know you like to watch.

I’ll wear your robe and slippers and I’ll sip your favorite scotch.

I’ll transplant my butt to your indentation on the couch.

I’ll ask myself each morning, ‘Who’s my favorite little grouch?’

I’ll do all those mundane things, like taking out the trash.

I’ll find out what the cats have done if I should hear a crash.

I’ll wind the cuckoo clock each day and sort through all the mail.

I’ll try my best to take your place, but know that I will fail.

You don’t have to worry. Your position won’t be filled.

It’s a job for which you’re most exceptionally skilled.

I knew right when I met you. To all other men, adieu!

No one brings to life the part of Husband like you do!

*photo courtesy of PublicDomainPictures on pixabay.com

Covert Ops

I learn about you everyday. The more I know, I find

I want to see in more detail the workings of your mind.

Just like none can judge a man who knows the game is on,

you reveal such nuggets when you think your curtain’s drawn!

I see whom you are inside and want to be like you.

At times I most admire what you’ve chosen not to do.

Genuine like none I know, you plot the course and stay,

all while living life like you accept it’s day to day.

You have self-esteem that’s real, from how you act and live,

the kind no school or trophy top could ever hope to give.

You’re forgiving. That I know. I’ve seen you be a man.

I’ve seen you set a lofty goal and give it all you can.

Though true that luck was on your side, so many gifts from birth,

you squander not, but shine instead, and give your life its worth.

Into dark I’d go with you. I’d follow without thought,

for you’re The Man, my whole life through, the one for whom I’d sought.

Even if you didn’t love me, I would love you still.

I’d have a wretched, gaping hole that none could hope to fill.

It’s because I love the you that you don’t try to be.

I love the you that sometimes you don’t know that I can see.

Thank you, Love, for having me, for making me your wife.

Thanks for being beacon fuel that burns and lights my life!

Enough

I’ve often seen a raindrop weave its way down window glass,

building speed and growing fast in size,

picking up the others as it wends its weary way,

down to earth it falls from darkened skies.

I’ve often seen a rainbow bring the promise of the sun,

its energy so vibrant and alive…

showing light waves’ majesty in all their glory, true,

witnessing how nature’s colors thrive.

I’ve often seen the sunrise usher in a brand new day,

spreading warmth across my face and land,

getting the world moving as they take on what may come,

both things they do and do not understand…

If I live I know I’ll see these more times than a few.

I know I can always ask for more,

see another rainbow after counting raindrops fall,

and feel the sunrise heat my very core.

I’ve never seen you sleeping after giving you delight.

I haven’t held you, kissed away your tears,

I haven’t had the nerve to tell you what I really want:

to be yours as we wile away the years.

If I could do these things, I’d give back all my raindrops now.

I’d throw away my rainbow for your love.

I’d banish my warm sunrise, and I’d get my heat from you.

Your love for me would surely be enough.

Up The Drive

When up the drive my lover’s car does pull,

emerging from his door I see him stand.

The limits of my heart are far past full.

His lunch box and his coat are in his hand.

I run so I can meet him at the door.

I’m always eager for his loving kiss.

He’s everything I want in life and more.

Now in our house, his love I no more miss.

He works all day to give me what he can.

I’m here for him to make his evening right.

I’m ever grateful this is my sweet man.

I’ll sleep embraced by him throughout the night.

And every time his car comes up the drive,

it keeps the love inside my heart alive.

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