Did you all set your clocks back an hour? Did you enjoy some extra sleep, or did you stay up even later trying to squeeze in just a little bit more of whatever you needed to do before the Sandman came around?
Yeah, me too.
Either way, it's the beginning of November (holy crap!) and we're on that slippery slope that leads straight into the holiday season.
So before all that crazy starts up, I'm going to share with you a love poem.
Oh, wipe that shocked look off your faces. Yes, I'm not all paranormal and terrifying and clumsy slap-stick humor, I can be sweet and loving as well. Sometimes. Well, now and then.
Anyway... This is a poem I wrote many, many years ago. It's a love poem, yes, but a different kind of love poem (yeah, okay, I can be sweet and loving, but, hey, it's me, so you knew there'd be a catch, right?). I've posted it before on Facebook and my own blog, and I'm going to share it here with our Story Orgy friends.
Happy November, don't forget to vote tomorrow, and set your sights on Thanksgiving, it's only a month away. Yeeehaw!
Counting Days
Ah, my love, I miss you so.
I am lethargic and dull
since you last left my side.
It feels as if you have been gone for years
and I wonder where you spend your time.
I spend mine counting the days until you return
And we can linger in bed,
reacquainting ourselves as old loves do.
I know you will be back,
you always return to blow the
breath of life through me,
awaken my body, sharpen my mind.
Oh, how I pine for you, love,
wait impatiently for your arrival.
I look forward to falling back
into our old, comfortable rhythms.
Return to me, my dearest,
my one true love,
my Eastern Standard Time.
-Hank Edwards
October 2002
