so many nights i am lost in that book

the one you gave me for my birthday

best-loved poems

with each opening and closing

i drink in your inscription

the loveliness of your handwriting

the words of love therein 

so well you know the man you love

i remember times when i would read to you

when we were in the first stages of our love

i would take you to a park bench

and execute in infallible form

such poems

i was trying very hard to win your heart

a bit unsure of what was touching your soul's depth

me or the poems

and when at last i dared to ask

you took my hand and settled forever the question

she had fallen in love with a man who loved poetry
the time i said, i loved you first, in jest
she replied, oh foolish man
her forehead to mine, her eyes burrowing deep
there are things a woman never reveals
if only to prove man does not know everything
or a silent and gentle push 
to the eventual goal best for him

1/12/19