And Then There's This... Three Non-Valentine Poems for Norma

In our 61 years together, I can't recall ever giving my wife Norma a Valentine nor celebrating the occasion with her. To me, it was utter silliness that a day and a symbol I had nothing to do with creating could render me more romantic than I could be on my own. But I sometimes wrote her poems — not particularly on Feb. 14 nor even on our Feb. 6 wedding anniversary – but whenever I was moved emotionally to do so. Here are three of them.

RIVER GIRL

I see you, always proper, looking both ways

then scurrying across the road

to stand on the high edge of the Ohio

and wave to the bug-size men on barges

inching upriver on the West Virginia side.

But, oh, most glorious are those leaping-up-and-down days

when the great showboats – The Majestic or The Delta Queen –

steam round the bend and downriver past your perch.

Then your dreams fly you onto their stages

where your bedroom-rehearsed songs from “Oklahoma” bring down the house.

A barge worker drops his rope and hammer,

wipes his brow and shields his eye against the glare.

He sees the tiny figure across the mile-wide water,

returns her wave and wishes he were home.

DISCOVERY

Sex was always second prize –

irresistible, addictive, worth dying for,

but messy, fumbling, a minefield through which

safe routes were never certain –

delicious, foul, precious,

an evolutionary romp.

First prize was discovery –

those minutes, hours and days

of incessant surprise

when your life unfolded like origami

and your every entrance was an orchestral swell.

FOR NORMA

Most nights I am complete –

“The Oxford English Dictionary,”

a Swiss Army knife,

“Britannica” A to Z.

But not tonight, for I am tired and old

and empty of the comfort of your voice,

the reassurance of your brushing hand.

[Editor's note: The serialization of Edward Morris' “Stardust: An Alzheimer's Love Story” will resume in the Gazette's next issue.]