This morning my wife and I arm wrestled the garage to the floor. From chaos to bliss in three easy steps. Decide. Do. Done.
On the way we uncovered sentimental chachkas and old photos. Gina read a poem she had written to me early on in our lives together. It seems I wasn't quite sure which way to go. I thought I'd post it, not only to share but also to return and read again from time to time.
Maybe
The big soft "maybe" of your lips
That cry like a baby on a woman's hips
As you fall into your cushioned place
Where "maybe" is the safest place
Not sure which way to turn or go
You hold onto your "maybe so"
Your "maybe" may be just a trick
To take your time and stick with it
Maybe blue or maybe brown
Maybe square or maybe round
It opens up the many ways
That you can spend your maybe days
But one day you will have to choose
A certain thing, or you may lose
Your "maybe" lips to strong persuasion
And you'll say "yes" with great elation
For I will be the one, you see
To love you most....
