A Pre-Valentine Poem

The manopause male does have one thing going for him:  his wife is old and forgetful and doesn't expect anything on Valentine's day.  In fact, she reminds him that she won't be home from work until very late on Valentine's evening and that, by then, the last thing she wants to do is go back out into the elements to eat at a crowded restaurant.

The manopause male appreciates this kind of spontaneous romance . . . even if she wasn't suggesting an evening at home together.  She was just suggesting, well . . . "I'm tired and don't want you to touch me or I'll break your cheeks!  Just toss a can of soup onto the stove and let's call it a night."

I can dig it.  I can also stir it.  And those chunks of carrot are delicious.

However, the manopause male does write an original Valentine's day poem every year (or two or three in addition to his hundreds of other romance/love offerings which he writes throughout the year).  So, he will at least offer one poem here for all of the sweethearts out there who will be enjoying a non-canned dinner.  Pre-valentine.

Here's a poem the manopause male wrote a few months back.  Not a bad choice of words.  Certainly worthy of remembering:

 

The Gift

I make you a gift of this irretrievable day

Beneath the sun’s stare, a blink of cloud,

The evening’s bed pulled back like a shroud.

And what is more, I shall not presume to say

A word since words may consequently fall

Headlong into meaning or mean nothing at all.