He wasn't the tallest, the smartest or the handsomest,
But, he had a great sense of humor.
He wasn't the best bread winner, he sometimes lost his temper,
But, he made me feel special.
He wasn't Father of The Year, in fact he wasn't home much.
But, he always made sure we were taken care of.
He had trouble keeping faithful,
But, he always remembered our anniversary.
He now has trouble remembering who I am,
But, he's mine.
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Comments: 32
I like the repetitive structure.
Thanks.
Thanks for stopping in and leaving comment at the article I wrote about 10 days ago concerning my bug sting and all the troubles I had due to a reaction of sorts. I am happy to report that I am much better now, but still get these herendous heaches. Thanks for caring so much.
Well done.
By that, I mean lead a joyous and growing life by having the right attitude, the willingness and ability to forgive, and continue bring out the best in each other.
I loved the poem even though something in my heart wanted to cry because you always want such a deserving person as the writer to be swept off her feet by the perfect lover :)
10 4 u
Yes, people will often assume that poetry or fiction is about the poet or author. I have run into that, too.
The fact is, writing poetry and fiction allows one to explore the world through other sets of eyes; it gives one a different perspective.
You write well enough to have this be thought of as first hand. So I still give you an A!
he's mine today.
today; Always.