Saturday, August 14, 2010

The Florist

"She loves me, she loves me not. She loves me, she loves me not. She loves me, she loves me not. She loves me, she loves me not. She loves me, she loves me not. She loves me, she loves me not. She loves me, she loves me not. She loves me. She loves me! Woohoo!"

The young man, barely out of his teens, hugged the florist.

"She loves me!"

He skipped off into the street, a happy tune on his lips.

The florist smiled, and sighed contentedly. It was moments like this that made counting and plucking the petals each morning worth it.

Image and video hosting by TinyPic

Photo credit: Martin Koitmäe from here.

Friday, August 06, 2010

Sunday, August 01, 2010

If Only...

If only you’d kept your head about you when
Everything collapsed and the fault was yours;
If you had trusted her above yourself,
Addressed her doubts instead of closing doors;
If only you’d waited for her to explain
And not dismissed all she said as lies;
Thought hateful thoughts each night you’d lain
Apart, forced silence and averted eyes;

If only you’d cared for her dreams, shared her pride;
Put aside thoughts of ego and shame;
If, through Triumph and Disaster, been by her side
And, through it all, loved her just the same;
If only you’d borne the hard truths she spoke,
Not lied, not taken her for a fool;
Worked to save the marriage as it broke,
Bowed on occasion, not been a mule;

If only you’d not been so intent on “winning”
And tried risking it all to win her back,
Forseen the aching loss when all was spinning
out of control; kept quiet, changed tack;
If only you’d forced your heart, your every nerve,
To pause, rethink, before things were too far gone,
Held on dearly to memories of earlier love
When nothing else was left to which to hold on;

If only you’d ignored crowds gossiping of virtue
And reached out for a personal, honest touch;
Not let assumptions and falsities hurt you,
Counted reason with you as a worthy crutch;
If only you’d held unforgiving words spoken in heat,
And listened to her for a minute, just one;
Your world and all in it would’ve been complete
And, perhaps, you would’ve been a real Man, my son!

Was rather disturbed by a conversation I had with a friend whose eleven year relationship has just crumbled to nothingness. And all he had to offer himself when trying to come to terms with it in the cold light of hindsight was a litany of pitiful 'If Only I Had's. Depressing, and an unwelcome reminder of my own long list of 'What If's and 'I Wish I Had's in this context.

(Due apologies to Kipling. A man who, it is probably safe to assume, was never lost for the right words to rescue any situation, however dire.)