For Charlie, who can REALLY write poetry. . .
Why do I do this to us?
You have made it clear that you will deny me nothing.
I told you I am ready to come home,
and you said “Welcome.”
I asked for what I thought I needed,
and you handed it over with no judgment whatsoever.
I fell in love with you
and you loved me back.
Now sometimes I hide my eyes
and run in the opposite direction.
I wear myself out with longing,
and gasp with exhaustion, bent over, screaming inside,
and you just wait.
For many, you are a problem.
For me, you never complain (I have no idea why this is).
And still I run.
Well, after all, it is a tall order to give up completely,
Yet that is what I choose.
I am yours,
and you have made it clear that you are mine.
The deal has been sealed.
Here I am in the house you gave me,
Alone in the most perfect way,
And still coming home,
The daffodils are already blooming,
Those damned dogs never shut up,
and the sky is blue.
What is there to complain of?
Oh, I’ll think of something.
And you keep waiting.
6 thoughts on “Why do I do this?”
You’re a wonderful poet! Thanks for sharing. Hugs, Hayat
Sent from my iPhone
You are uniquely you. I hear a blending of Rumi, Jonah, and of The Prodigal Son, but they are only resonation for me, not for you. Your path has different checkpoints.
Elegant and honest and I love its bright, fresh ending!
Elegant….what a wonderful word. I have to admit, I occasionally put my fingers on the keys, and that’s about it. Thanks for reading my poem, Sandra (Sandy? I never knew). And thank you all. My “stats” show that numerous people come by here in the course of a day, but it is very nice indeed to see that particular friends read this stuff.
A great poem. honest and sparkling. How could “You” not take you home now?