June Two-Oh-One-Three

Weddings will come…
Weddings will go…
Weddings have passed by me
Last June two-oh-one-three.

The veil has been lifted.
Nothing more to conceal.
Everything to reveal,
Shady mask to peel.

My flaws laid bare…
Exposed to mingle with your air.
Breathe in, if you dare.
I’ve given all to your care.

My foibles are toxic.
They may ruin your crown…
They may poison your being…
They may cause you to frown.

We vowed, “For better or for worse…”
But there’s more to words and promising…
There’s working, then sweating for fuel
To keep the fire burning.

I may be tempted once in a while
To claim the unclaimed freedom.
But for love’s sake that is beyond feeling,
A choice I made to love without much demanding.

When the veil was lifted,
My eyes finally did see,
The sharp clarity of certain things and reality,
That includes you and me and sundry…

It will take a conscious effort
To hold on tightly to keep you,
For you’re more than a romantic challenge
Not that which was conquered becomes useless.


You may lose your vigor, virility, and vitality,
But you’re more to me than a passing fancy.
I will not trade you for freedom…
Or any earthly wisdom…

Weddings will come…
Weddings will go…
Glad it came my way
And appointed you to stay.

Bad Coffee

I fixed him coffee – hot and aromatic – just the way he likes it. I seriously hope that he will like it because last time, I screwed up on the coffee – creamer ratio. If such happens, he doesn’t drink the whole cup; sometimes, he just doesn’t drink it at all even after inhaling a lungful of that soothing caffeinated aroma that he is so addicted to. I mean, who turns down coffee just because it isn’t made as creamy or as sweet as preferred? He will only drink it all the way down if I got the ratios right.

That’s my husband – a man who is very particular with his wants and needs. He knows what he prefers and he is specific with all the things he chooses.

Even with me, his wife.


Continue reading from Source: Bad Coffee

My Hunter

It’s our last meal for the day

– the last remaining scraps of meat from yesterday’s hunt. It was Him who caught this animal with horns. I don’t know what it’s called; He knows its name. It’s not like it matters whether I know what we’re eating or not. What is the value of my knowing? Only He has the right to know.

He has been trying so hard to find more food for us. I almost felt guilty for licking the last bits of meat. Those scraps were the only ones left from his hunt. I know it is more difficult for him to hunt now because of this strange weather. Every animal seems to have hidden behind the thickness of this white sheath from the sky. This sheath is lovely to look at, but it deprives us so.

∞Continue with the story…∞



my hunter cover