My Proposition

It’s funny,
Now that I think about it;
I don’t know what bothers me.
I’ll tell you the whole story.
(Here comes a novel!)
I find this hard to believe,
And hard to say, too.
We’ve each mentioned it before:
I love you, you know;
If I knew I could be supportive,
I would ask you a certain question
About spending our lives together.
Instead,
I’ll wait to ask,
for several reasons —
I have no way to support you;
We’re young and can afford to wait;
I love to torture myself.
I’ve thought of the possibilities.
I could work until you finish school;
Then I could “finish” my school work, too;
Perhaps we can wait until we both finish college,
When we have steady jobs
(If we can wait that long).
Of course,
This all depends on me asking you,
And on your saying yes.
We can wait a while,
Search each other out,
And if we find there can be no other,
I’ll ask you.
I may get down on my knee,
I’ll definitely have a dozen roses,
And a ring,
Of course.
That’s my proposition:
I haven’t asked yet
So you don’t have to say yes.

– 13 August 1981
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Golden Rings

A rocking chair,
A quiet porch,
A moment alone with your thoughts,
Remembering that look when she smiled at you
And you smiled back involuntarily;
Then you both burst out laughing
At the silliness of your love.
Was that not yesterday?
No, there have been children since then,
Now grown up and on their own,
Seeking their silly smiles
And silly love to share anew.
As your thoughts wander
The phone rings.
Your daughter’s boyfriend has just proposed.
Your wandering thoughts come to an end
Closing the circle of love you thought you’d just begun.

— 4 September 1988