(One day early, and with sincere apologies to Elizabeth Barrett Browning)
To count the ways I love thee
Will take a little time
(Especially since I’ve set my sights
On counting them in rhyme)
It started many years ago
With feelings set to song–
Our hearts were young and innocent,
Our hair was rather long.
You said we should get married,
And I said that sounded grand,
So we skipped to ever after
Side by side and hand in hand.
I’ve loved you in the kitchen
With loaves of homemade bread.
I’ve loved you in our conflicts
And I’ve loved you in our bed.
I loved you in your wilderness,
A love spent on my knees;
I loved you in the laughter
Of a thousand victories.
I’ve loved you in our children
With a love as strong as death,
And I know that love will persevere
Until my final breath.
But . . .
To count the ways you’ve loved me
Would take a million words.
If I counted till the day I died,
The half would not be heard.
My love is merely moonlight–
A reflection of your sun
As I bask in awe and wonder
Of the two becoming one.
A soul may reach for depth and height,
The ends of ideal grace–
But my soul will rest securely
In the warmth of your embrace.
We’ve climbed the hill together
And my heart is very sure
The love we’ve built along the way
Is love that will endure–
Not due to our great wisdom
Or the power of our hands,
But because we know the Builder
And we trust His master plans.
May you sense His tender presence
As you start another year
Counting ways I love thee.
Happy Birthday, dear.
Awww …
That poem is better than death by chocolate cake.
Happy Birthday George!
There once lived one Sir Georgy Damoff
Whose students did call Wormy Worm Prof
Many worms he dissected
Until he perfected
A worm casserole with the lid off
OKAY, so I failed at limericks 101
Happy Birthday, George!
Or, as the Frenchy Frenchs say: “Joyeuse Anniversaire!”
Mary in France
PS. For your 51st, methinks you need to go on a cruise on the Mediterranean.
Happy Birthday George!
And awesome poeticisms, Jeanne.
I’m starting to get the idea that you two guys like each other.
Mike
Happy Birthday George!
Thanks to Jeanne we get to share your poetic birthday present. What a lovely poem. May you have many more happy birthdays and more poems and other blessings
Deborah
Happy Birthday George
Awww, that’s so sweet. George is one lucky man to have such a lyrically talented wife. Thanks for sharing that with us, Jeanne.
Jen T.
awww, that makes me want to cry.
l.l
The recipient of the poem
I cried while reading this poem for the first time Friday evening while digesting Jeanne’s homemade chicken pot pie and waiting to ingest her homemade death by chocolate cake. I could barely finish reading it, especially when I looked up at her and saw her tears and smile. And I cried again just now, Monday noon, when I came to this site to read my poem posted AND all the unexpected nice birthday wishes and comments about my dear sweet wife. Thank you Jeanne blog readers! Jeanne is a true master wordsmith. I realized this over 27 years ago. I am deeply happy to observe her honing her craft and in active pursuit of sharing her gift with a much wider audience.
Farmer Harmony, aka George
mmm..
Auntie… this is wonderful. I love it.
I’m glad that I’m your fifth favorite human (and no, you don’t have to say it… I just know).
Re: Awww …
Compliments don’t run any higher than that. Thanks, JQS. 🙂
Re: Happy Birthday George!
Don’t be so hard on yourself, Mary in France. I think that’s quite an original limerick. And Wormy Worm Prof does make a mean lidless worm casserole. How did you know?
Re: Happy Birthday George!
You’re starting to get that idea? Wow. Perceptive. I think you missed your calling, Sherlock.
Thanks, Mike. My husband thanks you. My poeticisms thank you. We all thank you.
Re: Happy Birthday George!
Thanks, Deborah. 🙂
Re: Happy Birthday George
You’re welcome, Jen. And thank YOU for thinking it’s sweet, and George is lucky, and I’m lyrically talented. 🙂
Okay, Luke. So, go ahead and cry. Preferably in a public place, with lots of loud wailing and nose blowing and comments like, “Little Brudder. He has the heart of a champion.”
Thanks, by the way. I love you.
Re: The recipient of the poem
George, you’re so sweet! No wonder I’m a spoiled, conceited brat. Pat yourself on the back. You get all the credit.
Thanks for your never-ending encouragement. If no one else ever believes in me, I’ll always have you.
♥
Re: mmm..
Oh, but I do have to say it. How could you not be my fifth favorite human? There’s an aura of fifth-favoriteness emanating from you, like the odor that clings to the highway when someone runs over a skunk. You are drenched in fifth-favoritability, and were I to climb the highest mountain to try to escape it, the power of that force would hold me in its french-fried tentacles, refusing to release me from its greasy grip.
Thanks, Nay. I’m glad you love it. I love YOU.