Marriage was not important to you,so you stood at the aisle and said 'I do',
caught your breath at girl in dress and shed a tear or two.
You bought the old and run down house,
stripped the wood and caught the mouse,
blinked through single window pane as heat and heart slid out.
You watched our son,
questioned how you'd split your love,
reasoned 'it is what you want, let's have another one.'
You held me while I fell,
pulled me from the deepest well,
told me 'we are more than this and we will laugh again.'
You bought the chocolate for the shock when scan said baby girl.
You stayed awake,
you walked, you stood, you held, you paced,
let me sleep the backshift while you learned your daughters face.
Sang and whispered lullabies and breathed in angel hair.
as I began to talk of skies,
talk of water, talk of wave and talk of oceanside.
You emailed links to Rightmove and you hoped our feet stayed dry.
You missed your wife,
sat on sofa to the right,
as words and space and internet crept into day and night.
You ordered me a laptop and you told me 'go and write'.
The days I cried,
for Jennie and her girl who died,
you listened and you didn't judge or sweep it all aside.
You gave me back perspective when you couldn't make it right.
You chased our girl,
tearing laps round PC World,
let me gaze at apple mac and glimpse a brighter world.
You said 'perhaps we take a chance', you said 'this can be done'.
You built the desk,
cupboard, drawers and swivel chair,
heard me talk of busy work and went and sat downstairs.
Watched the TV on your own and didn't once complain.
to grow into a taller man,
slowly rooted in the ground so I could climb the branch.
I could sweep and soar and swoon and I could gaze at stars.
I may argue, I may sigh,
I may look with tired eyes,
I may talk of what we want and more than what we have...
I love you Ross you're 50 times the man you think you are.
You can watch me read this poem live as part of the February Virtual Open Mic Night hosted by Stephanie Arsoska of Beautiful Misbehaviour.