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You want me to write you a poem,

as if it is such an easy thing.

“You are good with words” you whisper,

as if on command I will sing.

What should I say? That I do not say every morning when I wake up beside you?

Everyday I am with you, holding your hand and supporting you,

This is my poem to you.

I have no words for this,

I have no great and epic song.

I am standing here holding all the pieces,

Desperately keeping things from going wrong.

I will not write you a poem, because simply put,

I am your poem.

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About ponderingmoon

Educational Support Worker in Salmon Arm, writer, martial artist, and more importantly Father and Husband. View all posts by ponderingmoon

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