Author’s Note: This is another poem I wrote for my wife. Had I known how little time I had left with her at the time, I would have held on much tighter. In less than two years, she was gone. Still, I am forever grateful for the time I was blessed to have her in my life.
My wife has been with me a lot lately. Actually, she always is. Her voice has been some louder as I wander recently through treasured memories. Maybe it’s because I am nearing the time of year when I lost her. Or it could be that there is some message I’m meant to know. In any case, her voice soothes me and makes me broken heart a little more whole. Occasionally, she even inspires a poem.
She asked me once what was my favorite moment that we had shared. To spur me on, she started first. She relayed a tale about a park bench where we had sat to talk one night. It was a memory I barely recalled as she started her story.
I had left the windows open in the car parked nearby. The radio was playing in the car. At one point there had been a lull in the conversation. In the break, I had started to sing along with the Howie Day song playing on the radio.
I must interject here, I cannot sing. Music is very important to me, and I love to try to sing, but I cannot hold a tune, and I’m sure I am awful to listen to.
My wife went on to tell me, that in the quiet moment, me singing at my worst in full voice, that she knew for the first time that I was willing to drop all my walls and open up to her completely. That brief event told her that we were connected in a way that no one else could ever define.
My favorite moment was an equally uneventful occasion. A group of us had rented two condos on the beach. My dear Laramie and I were not even dating at the time. There was a mutual attraction, though, and we both felt something growing between us. But neither of us had dared to broach the subject.
One of the last nights of the trip, there was supposed to be a “spectacular” lunar eclipse. The sky was partly cloudy and the eclipse was rather unimpressive.
I had stepped away from the group to take a phone call. Laramie came running to me because she had gone to put some garbage in the dumpsters when she came across a family of raccoons. In her story, there were dozens of them, though when we went to inspect I never saw more than two.
To comfort her, I had put my arm around her and pulled her tight. I ended my phone call and gave her my full attention trying to calm her fears. Mostly we just stood there silently in the night.
Something changed in that moment. Laramie was no longer my closest friend. She was my heart’s desire, and we were a couple from that second onward. I will always cherish that night.
A Poem Is Born
That night will probably always be my favorite memory. It was then that I knew how much I loved her, and that we would always be together. Laramie may no longer be with me in person, buy her voice will always guide me.
Thinking about that night inspired the following poem.
It has been a really crazy week with learning a new job. I have not had a chance to format anything of my own for posting. Instead, I am sharing this poem by Maggie C. I stumbled upon it this week when I should have been preparing my own blog posts. I really appreciate the message. We only may be “one spoke” but we are all important. Enjoy! And thank you to Maggie for writing quality content so I did not have to this week.
I am but one spoke in the wheel. I carry only a small portion of the load. The wheel could function without me. It sustains itself as a whole. I am but one spoke in the wheel. I do my part. I carry my share of the load. I hold strong. We are but spokes […]
A presence near
The heart sincere
Goodbye to fear
Home is here
A man a soul
A worthwhile goal
Looks black as coal
Fits the role
The burning fire
A living wire
Children to sire
Behind a veil
The heart will wale
Break free from jail
Meant to fail
Not one but two
And much is due
You thought you knew
If so, who?
Author’s Note: We are all more than one person. At the very least we are two: the one we present to the world and the one we are deep inside. Most of us are much more than two as we have a “person” for each part of our life. Family, friend, work, social, parent, strangers… Not everyone sees the same person when they look at us. Indeed, we do not present the same person to each person we meet.
This poem was written in my late teens, early twenties when I was trying to figure out primarily what person I was going to be. I hope you enjoy.
If you enjoyed this poem, please share it with others.