Roses are red, Violets are blue.
This is from me, whose back is askew.
Grapes are sour and honey is sweet,
I just stepped on your shoe with my bare feet.
Since it is yours I will forgive
because it is a part of where we live.
You put up with how much time I jog,
and when I put mushy stuff all over my blog.
I ask you to be mine and I’m not being trite,
even if sometimes I confuse my left with my right.
Yet you still work hard to bring home the dough,
as I rush around town with two kids in tow.
Our children we cherish from dawn until dusk,
Yet it is our evening solace that I lust.
I might be the only one who has seen you do yoga
or for that matter, dancing, shower sing, or wear a toga.
These are the things that I daily look forward,
knowing the goals we are together moving toward.
If my rhymes are a little bit slanted,
just remember our tree we have planted.
All my love I give on this crazy holiday,
with much more than I really need to say.
For the one thing that makes me feel grand
is when we are alone and you still hold my hand.