Hear ye. Hear ye. Lend thy ear
to hear a tale of my man here,
more Rubenesque than Roman God,
no covering for his top façade.
Still, a fine specimen by far
I call him, Darling Don.
In daily tasks he has ambition.
Lots of garden flowers glisten,
piles of mud grace my kitchen,
my dogs are pampered and they listen.
To make a home for just us two
he moves the rods of bamboo,
books, tools, paintings, too.
Is there room for the canoe?
In gifts he soars above all men.
Pretty parcels arrive by 10’s.
He gives gems; I give pens.
It’s OK, he contends.
Each night I wait for day to settle
he heaves his heavy frame on metal.
The space between us near
his body wraps me close to hear,
“I love you”, he whispers in my ear.
My, isn’t he a perfect dear?
To my husband for our wedding February 14, 2000
