I've been struggling to get over the death of my wife for the last few months - here's a poem about her.
Sweet Laura Adele
My lover, my woman, my belle
She drank and she farted
And that's why I started
With sweet Laura Adele.
She loved me, she hurt me she did -
She had me so frightened I hid,
For she was a maid
In whom life was displayed
And I'd do whatever she bid.
We had our three years on the cross
All fighting and fucking and floss -
But we stayed together
Through hell and bad weather
Sweet Laura's my life's worst loss.
Sweet Laura Adele
I loved that woman like hell
Her temper, her smile
Her cunning and guile
My sweet Laura Adele.
Bri.
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Read your comment over at the snake pit that is Guido's blog. Totally agreed with your output, so...
ReplyDelete....so then I clicked on your name and connected with your blog. And then read these tender things.
I'm so sorry for your loss.
Hey, 'apropos of what exactly': This is a very, very beautiful remembrance...worthy of a devoted lover.
But I feel like I'm an intruder. Really, because I am.
Do take care of yourself,
Jono.