I always wanted to write a poem for you
But words weren’t enough to convey the depths of emotion I have for you
My love for you chokes me sometimes
Knowing like all beautiful flowers that the bloom is finite
So tonight
I figured I might try to write you a poem
Not a poem that seeks to encompass all the wonderful things I know you to be
Not even the one that drudges up the sappy memories
You giving me Mathew 25, verses 14- 36
Or those memories tucked away silently by time
Things you didn’t know I was old enough to remember
You crying in darkened living room by yourself with an airplane passing overhead
Traci asking why you were crying
Me, barely two years old
No
I simply decided to let my heart spill out on this keyboard
To shut my brain off for five minutes and let my heart shine you symphonies that are pale comparisons to the keystrokes that rocked me to sleep when you were the single mother with two kids simply trying to get that Masters Degree, or PhD
I simply wanted to string together words in the mere hope that I could get you to cry tears of joy
One tear for every tear of frustration as you wondered,
Why you had such a capable yet poorly motivated son in school
Perhaps it was the politics
I have always been a fool for you
But I never really liked dancing for others
Although poor self esteem would drive me to from time to time
This isn’t a poem about how great you are in my eyes
Or how I think you truly are the most intelligent woman I’ve ever known
Claire Huxtable would be scared to cross you in a battle of wits
This is simply something I can’t explain
A feeling that came over me
That uncontrollable urge to write something solely for you
That poem that was long over due
The piece that you could say was yours
The piece that probably could have been more poetic
But couldn’t have been any more heartfelt
The poem that said I love you long before the words “I love you” appeared in it
The poem that said thank you for being a good mother
Even though that was your job
You did it exceedingly well
The poem that asks 70% chances that I wouldn’t be writing this poem seems laughable now, doesn’t it?
That poem that praises you without ever speaking your name
That says no time with you is ill spent
That says I’m not an emotional man, but writing this makes me want to weep
In wavelengths that only The Creator could see
Because I am too proud and to weak to cry
The words are slipping away
I feel like Carlito asking where we’re going for drinks
Although neither one of us are drinkers
In the whirlwind
You are my anchor
All I have is you
Which explains why
In the whirlwind, push you away
Determined to stand on my own two
As the man you prayed I’d be
But also because I’m scared to death of losing you
The one person I can count on the most
The words are scarce now
All that is left is the obvious
I love you
I’m thankful
I am weeping