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It has been three Tuesdays since I lost you.
I will never forget seeing you, just lying there.
I went to our regular coffee shop, at the regular time.
For the second week in a row I ordered both our drinks.

It has been nine Saturdays since I lost you.
The drugstore called yesterday and said your medicine needed to be picked up.
I picked it up.

It has been seven episodes of that show you like, since I lost you.
Most of the things on the DVR are yours.
I’m just not ready to delete them. It’s the little things.
I don’t think I can just yet.

It is the first Thanksgiving since I lost you.
Dinner at my parents was nice, but no one mentioned you.
I canceled Christmas with your parents.
They said they understood.

It has been twenty-two Sunday walks in the park since I lost you.
More than once, my friends told me it is time to pick up and move on.
What is so important about moving on? I lost someone I love.

It has been dozens of mornings waking up and not seeing you asleep.
You are more than someone I wanted to spend my life with.
You were a comfort, a constant, a habit.

It has been five months since I have heard you tell me you love me,
and the memory is starting to fade. I can’t lose it too.

It has been one hundred seventy-four days, sixteen hours, and twenty-one minutes since I lost you.
To him.
Alex McQuate Jun 30
Looking on the past year,
I couldn't change a thing,
Throughout all the fights and arguments I would call here,
It also brought forth joy like a warm note on a nylon guitar string.

I saw my sons birth,
Where he held my finger in that operating room,
Where the strength of this newborn titan laid me low,
Tears of joy springing unburden to my eye,
Carrying me to a great height I never knew before.

I got to see him take his first steps,
Hear his first word,
And see all the other firsts along the way.

Every one worth the trials of life,
Working to support us,
Put myself through college,
Waking at 4,
Coming home at 8,
And sleeping at 12,
Working for 15.30,
And slogging hard for 2.

You were mad at my doggedness,
Angry at ignoring myself,
I know I waylaid my own needs too much,
Put too much on my own shoulders,
And sometimes I still do.

I promised you the world,
And I can like to think I can at least give you the parts of it you want.

Only now do I realize that the parts in question are not as big as I once thought.
Peter Gabriel- Book of Love
Alex McQuate Jun 30
I see you there,
My sweet warm spring rain,
Coming 'round that worn & weathered bend again,
My sweetness,
My Queen.

Glimpses of you,
Carried upon warm gusts,
Through the torrent of winter sleet,
Tempered by grace and kindness,
Making me see that sweet morning dew once again.

Making my head swim,
Sweat breaking from my brow,
Rivulets caused by the intensity of your love,
Matching any summer haze.

You carry forth a great message,
Of coming life in blooms,
Rather then heralding Fall's doom and impending gloom.

So sing to me my May Queen,
With your soft words of gentle wood,
The sounds of supreme love and understanding,
Calling forth in me everything good.
Peter Gabriel- Heros
Shakytrumpet Jun 30
Autumn leaves adrift
Carried, gently, by the breeze.
Covering the Earth
In an auburn sea.
Set ablaze by nightfall
As days end draws near
Leaving just as swift
As the leaves that were left here
Shakytrumpet Jun 30
I built a wife of leaves,
So I wouldn't be alone.
I revel in the beauty
Of her brazen copper tone.

She would listen to me ramble,
For hours on end,
Till every little bit of her
Was whisked away by the wind.

She must've found me boring,
Most women do,
I wish I could understand
Why she had to leave me too.
Pt. 1
Jeremy Betts May 5
She wants me less and less everyday
Which is why I think about walking away
And I know exactly what she's gonna say
She will turn it on me in a spectacular way
I used to hate that it's something I was able to say
I just don't care anymore

Shley Mar 25
I never could've known the life we'd have
When we were young and drunk on discovery.

When you walked into my life like light flooding a room,
I never could've imagined what we'd build together.

As I hold the children you gave me in my arms,
The culmination of our intertwined hearts,
I feel so rich and full and satisfied.

I didn't know then, but I know now, just how beautiful it is to open your heart to another.
Robert Ronnow Jan 16
Nicky, the neighbor’s dog, drags a road **** home.
A beautiful pelt like those fox shoulder garments women wore in the
But the head is crushed beyond recognition—maybe it’s a fox and that’s
      why Nicky, a canine, is conducting this wake on our front lawn.

Loretta, my wife’s mother, is in the hospital again. Forty years of Crohn’s
      disease has finally broken her.
It may take some time but she won’t bounce back from this episode.
None of us are sorry to see her die, not even Loretta. There will be a
      thunderous downpour during her last hour.

I like the story about the nuns hitting Peg in school–contumacy is a sin.
Emile and Loretta considered it an inappropriate punishment for their
      cherished adopted daughter.
So they pulled her out of Catholic for public school. They did their own
      thinking about discipline.

Early Spring, peepers all night, then the birds take over at dawn.
      Soothing—the mourning doves.
During this half of the year, May through October, we live in a green
We turn the house inside out, move into the mountains.

In their annual order, flowers appear in the understory: coltsfoot, hepatica
      and trillium through to the end, late purple aster, spotted joe pye and
      pearly everlasting.
We let Nicky nurse her road ****, watch over it, roll around on it.
Don’t let go of the steering wheel while driving fast in the passing lane.
Karijinbba Jan 14
The traveler's wife?
I get it! You showed
that movie in the
magazine pages
long before the movie
came out

Pt, I finally did
watch it each time it rains
and when the sun shines
i search for you still;
shoes shirt and pants on hand
 place them behind the bushes
in search of you and amidst
pine tree branches too
thinking of you dearest
How i love you.

Not a day goes by
I do not seek you.
Please don't go hunting
but if you do I shall run
to hug you beg you to stay
traveler dearest
twin soul divine.
I love you. 
By: Karijinbba
And Mrs and Mrs Andrews.
Robert Ippaso Dec 2023
As a non-golfing husband I revel at tales
Of sunshine filled days chasing small *****,
Some in the rough others in sand,
All these brave girls fighting nature's pitfalls.

I hear of the times the flock of wild ducks
Hindered a drive that was perfectly hit,
And what of those trees that magically moved
With a subsequent shout 'I just want to quit'.

But then I'm regaled with feats of great skill
Such as the time a Birdie was made,
Out comes the flask, big glugs all around,
Magical moments that no-one would trade.

They say Golf's a passion a lifelong pursuit,
One day may be heaven the other pure hell,
Neither cool mornings nor that full midday heat,
Apparently stops that will to excel.

Yet there's one thing I notice each week,
Yes the real pleasure from playing the game
And what's not to like from those magical views
But without one's good friends the day's not the same.

So to all poor Golf widowers awoken by shrilling alarms,
Then never quite knowing what time we'll see our fair brides,
There's a much higher calling we can but embrace,
'Happy wife happy life' the true gift this pastime provides.
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