Another poem by RT – about me. I think it’s pretty cool to be almost 60 years old and still having my man writing poems about me. 
There may be snow on the roof (figuratively speaking) but there’s still fire in the furnace.
Today You Appeared
Today I waited
Today I longed for you.
Built a fire
Thought of my desire.
Then you finally appeared,
My quest and heart at peace
With you by my side.
My wait now over
As you rounded the curve.
And walked with me back
Up the hill.
11/22/08, RTJ
Now for the background – which might take away a little of the poem’s romantic feel. I left the house earlier this morning to get a manicure and pedicure, then by RT’s office to pick up a print I had bought and left there for my daughter to look at. I took the print to Michael’s and picked out the matting and the frame and left it to be framed. Then I was off to Pier 1 to see if I saw anything that appealed to me for the house – I didn’t. I walked out empty-handed. Then I was off to Sam’s to get some paper towels, toilet paper, a few things for the next time our church packs boxes to send to soldiers, and a ham to cook for tomorrow’s church potluck dinner. Then I headed by Publix to pick up a few groceries. By the time I got home, it was approximately 5 hours after I had left.
In the meantime, RT had been at home all day. He had decided to burn a HUGE (no exaggeration) pile of brush that we’d been accumulating for a year and a half. When I say huge pile of brush – I mean a pile probably about the size of the barn. In addition to dead trees that we’d pushed together while building our house last year, our son’s landscaping company had been adding clippings and other brush to it for the past year, too.
Once RT started the fire, he couldn’t leave it unattended. So he was stuck at the bottom of the hill watching the fire all morning and into the afternoon. Lunchtime came and went. He was hungry. Now realistically, he could have walked up to the house and made a sandwich while watching the fire out the window. However, he preferred to wait for me.
Meanwhile, I was blissfully unaware of his “need.” I stopped mid-errands and got myself some lunch and enjoyed it at my leisure.
So RT was anxiously awaiting my car to round the curve in the driveway so I could come inside and fix him some lunch. I think having lunch prepared for him was the “desire” he referred to in the poem. Shortly after my arrival home he was happily munching on a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of chicken rice soup – and composing poetry.
The quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach – no truer words were ever spoken. RT graduated summa cum laude from college. However, he is a smart man in other, nonacademic way, too. For one, he is always appreciative and complimentary of whatever I make. He is quick to tell any-and-everyone he meets that he loves my cooking. And then he writes me love notes and poetry. As I said, he’s a very smart man. If I had someone willing to cook for me, I’d wait, too.