To my Mister, who is celebrating his day of birth today by screwing up cement board in our new shower.
I know you’d rather be doing something else, but without you, I’d start to smell after three days. Like ripe cheese. And while I know you love that old, moldy blue…I have personal hygiene issues.
Happy Birthday, babe! I love you…always.
i carry your heart
by e.e. cummings
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
And because we met on a Friday, and his birthday is on a Friday…he’s gets me. Absolutely.