Ken
Margaret V.Doran

Romance is not dead
or even dying,
it is alive in you, my love.

It is not
      sugary or
      loquacious or
      extravagant

It is
      calloused hands
      which provide for me
      and our children

It is
      your paycheck
      which is ours
      and you never see

It is
      working side by side
      in the rain
      to repair something Necessary

It is
      a hug when things
      become too much
      and life is hard

It is you:
      and Elizabeth
            building a doghouse;
      giving Garrett
            a "horsey" ride;
      and Brian
            heading out the door
            in your boots
            to cut wood (and find frogs);
      and Karen
            heads in the engine,
            bottoms in the air,
            working on her pickup;
      and Sarah,
            in the middle of the night,
            packs on your backs,
            leaving for a search

It is
      looking at our children
      (both young and grown)
      and crying and smiling,
      Together

It is
      years of passionate nights
      punctuated by
      crying children, barking dogs,
      bad backs and a lack of towels

It is
      anger vented in the air
      disagreements reconciled and
      long nights talking it out

It is
      years of sharing and . . .

It is Commitment

Copyright © 1997 Margaret V. Doran. All rights reserved.

If you enjoyed this poem, please send her an e-mail here.

Updated July 7, 1999
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