the very best of my skill,
brought to bear,
could not put down in these lines
how much the inwardmost
innerds of me really care,
care, for the heart and the soul of You,
care for what You have got,
and what has been kept from You,
care about how You are now
to see if You have the right stuff,
hey, Ya know what?
not good enough:
I would never test You,
but he does,
just because
he can;
that's no man,
that's a squirrel,
seeking revenge,
trying to unhinge You;
eh, I give chase,
and You,
You postpone the race,
and I just resign myself
to second place,
but resolve to stay
steadily apace:
I'm not a dog who can
run fast,
but I am a mutt who can
really last until the end
of the game is called so,
by name,
and we all raise a glass,
to the smartest ass,
who learned how to tame You,
and how to blame You,
how to defame You,
and set You on fire,
how someone You came
to trust, after loving so much,
came to own You,
and then disown You;
I weep, most of the time,
for all the moments that
are Yours and mine,
knowing that at moment's end,
You will be under his knuckles
again; willingly,
and that makes me recoil,
since true love
is not borne of such,
it flows, however slow or
fast, admitting errors past,
but letting true colors
unremittingly, baby,
my sweet pumpkin,

April 1, 2010, for the Wifey.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

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