How do I love thee? Let me count the ways...
I love thee for thy bloodshot eyes, that close while I am talking,
or, in the middle of my conversation, away from me your'e walking.
I love thee for thy tender caress, that tears away my skin. With work-worn hands so harsh and rough, with scratches worn there-in.
I love thee for thy long silky hair, that lies in the bathroom sink.
I love thee for thy pearly teeth, as with every bite they clink.
I love thee for thy fine physic. The manly chest that fell to pot, and behind you, what use to be, now there is not.
I love thee for thy passion, that your heart has surely led.
It burns so bright, but every night, it stays there in your head.
I love the for the occasional times you bring loving gifts to me.
Vacume bags, jelly beans, or a package of pecoe tea.
I love thee for the many nights, I snuggle close to adore.
You reach out and pull me close, then suddenly you snore.
I love thee for thy compliments, that readily overflow. "This meat is good, but too much salt, and I dont like casserole's you know."
I love thee for thy thoughtfullness. "You'll not cook tonight by hell, Go get all dolled up and I'll take you to 'Tacco Bell'".
I love thee for thy diplomacy, the times when you aren't so wise.
The sweet way you say, "I am never wrong, but if you will shut up, I'll apoligise."
I love thee for they sweet consern, when my head is throbbing tight.
"Take two asprins and go to bed, tomorrow you'll be all right."
I love thee for thy generosity. This place you surely fill.
You give me your pay check every week so I can pay your bills.
I love thee, Oh how I love thee, of this I have proved is true. For darling, if I did not love thee, I woulden't put up with you.
NOTE; This poem was done in humor.It in no way discribes my husband Bill. Actually it is the exact oppasite of him, and he above all enjoyed the humor of it.W.T.D
I'm going to get the old trunk out, and clean it out today. I can use the space for things, and there's much to throw away.
So I sat myself right down, to start the needed chore. To sort, and throw away, the unused, and 'never-wore'.
I picked up a tissue covered parcel, and seen to my surprise, a white satan dress, in a three months baby size.
It once belonged to Linda, my first child and only girl, and tucked beneath the tissue was a tiny golden curl.
A tiny woolen sweater, so soft, but yellowed with age. A clipping of Linda's birth from a newspaper page.
Wiping a tear from my smutty face, I lay this all aside, and dug on down into the trunk, a blue baby book I spied.
Tommy, my first son's book, so precious and valued, worth a second look.
Baby pictures and sandy locks, certificates, and footprints. Baby beads; My keepsakes. A pang of memory sent.
Kenny's book was green, as was his blanket and gown, that Daddy bought him, for his first trip into town.
Troy's book is yellow, more elaborate than the others, but crammed the same, with pride and memories as were his sister and brothers.
On and on I looked and searched, to the bottom of the trunk. Searching for the discards, the unused, unwanted junk.
Baby shoes and teething rings, a blacken, beaten bear. Baby teeth and rattles, along with locks of hair.
Kendagarten paintings, and 'special gifts for Mom". A siluette and hand prints, made lovingly by Tom.
A sewing card, from Linda, a Brownie project rare, Beads and bracelets, and things, made with loving care.
Kenny and Troy's first baby toys, tiny socks, hats and shoes. Pastey cards to Mom and Dad, covered in 'I love you's'.
Hours after I had started, this task of sorting junk, I sat and repacked, that large and precious trunk.
Need I really tell you now, that I coulden't find a place, to add to the things packed away, 'cause there wasen't any space?
The pile to be discarded, was an empty spot upon the floor. Because I could not discard a thing, from this 'junk' that I adore.
