Poet’s oft speak of love in such flowery terms
I don’t get what they’re trying to say.
It almost makes me shy away from divulging
how my lover shows love in his way.
Now I’m the word craftsman between he and I
yet he writes poetry silently.
I’ll share a few lines of his work if you like
then you’ll see how he sweet talks me.
Like the day I was trying to mow on a hill
then he hollered out, “Hey I’ll get that”.
If I did not know how he writes poetry
we may have gotten into a spat.
Whenever the labor is heavy or hard
He bears the load for me.
Some girls would call that chauvinistic
but I call that, poetry.
When he says,”Lets go for a ride Babe.”
Then climbs up on the tractor seat.
To go look at the hay or a brand new calf
I call that poetry, sweet.
Thirty-five years of devotion and love
faithfully penned every day.
Now that is some kind of poetry
That mere words could never convey.