(From 2018 -- A Free Verse Poem)
He was never very romantic, in the way we define romantic.
He doesn’t write poetry, or plan romantic trips to the Riviera. Candlelit dinners and walks on the beach are something other couples do.
He never carried me over a threshold, or stood under my window to declare his undying love for me,
And he never scattered our room with rose petals, or made me breakfast in bed.
No. He’s never done any of those things.
But…
I’ve seen him drive through the rain and snow to meet deadlines; or lift engines out of cars to fix them, because we couldn’t afford a mechanic.
I’ve watched him fell trees, and chop wood, to give warmth to our home; and I’ve seen him sell his precious possessions, so that our children could have nicer things.
For 25 years, I watched him don heavy body armor, and pin a badge on his chest, so that he could keep others as safe…as he kept us.
And I’ve held him in my arms, when he almost died, pleading with him to stay--for I could not imagine my life without him…that man who doesn’t write poetry.
But...he never had to write poetry.
For I know...that I have been loved, like no other.
His entire life has been the poetry of sacrifice…for our home, for our children…for me.
That is true poetry. That is true romance. That is true love.
And he is, the Knight of My Heart.
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