© 2008 -- 2011 the Grandpa at The Word Mechanic. All rights reserved.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Epithalamium

For L.M on the occasion of his third marriage

Let me sing for my love a song
And my love will cover me with kisses.


Then never stop singing. Let your voice fill the land
with your new bride’s name.
In the morning, sing to her as you make her toast,
spreading marmalade.
At noon, sing to her over cups of chicken soup
brimful with noodles.

Sing to her in malls; sing on the escalators
and in parking lots.
Sing at the counter and tables of fast food chains.

When you buy movie tickets, sing your lover’s name
while you count your change.
Sing in the soft glow of dimly lighted lounges
with fake fires burning.
As the singer on stage sings a final set and
your love sips wine, sing.

Sing on the drive home and as you check locked windows
while she combs her hair.
Sing to her in the rush of passionate embrace.

But give her also days without singing,
for her heart, just as yours,
must hear the splinters of other songs.

Originally published in A Matter of Mind, Foothills Publishing, 2004.
© copyright 2004, 2009 the Grandpa at The Word Mechanic Blog.
All rights reserved

5 comments:

  1. Wise ending.
    You are a romantic Grandpa!

    Aloha troubador-


    Comfort Spiral

    ReplyDelete
  2. Oh God, Grandpa, you should of heard my husband singing when I accidently put his wallet through the washer...

    Peace - Rene

    ReplyDelete
  3. Women put their husbands wallets through the washer because women don't carry anything in their own pockets.

    :-)

    ReplyDelete
  4. 3rd marriage Oh My... but your poem was lovely :-)

    ReplyDelete