Yesterday, Anita had a day off, so we ended up going on a very nice midafternoon walk. I must say, it was refreshing. Especially, since I was working since the early morning. My head was pounding, and my eyes were sore from staring that the monitor for all those hours.
Once we got back from our walk, I was motivated to write this poem. I shared it with her shortly after finishing it, and she absolutely loved it. Her reaction made my day.
The joy that I see in her eyes each time I write a poem for her and read it out loud to her is truly indescribable. Giving others the opportunity to experience and feel the same amazing emotions is the reason I’m dedicating so much time to expanding anitapoems.com. I want others to be able to share simple poetry from the heart with their loved ones, that would lead to the same reactions that I receive from my wife.
Here’s the poem. Hope you like it.
Midafternoon Walk
Went with my wife,
for a midafternoon walk,
Craving fresh air,
her hand, and a talk.
Up before sunrise,
took a toll on my brain,
Eyes felt fatigued,
screen delivered some pain.
Quickly recovered,
my hope and my sight,
This poem is for her,
with a smile I write.
Just realized,
my thoughts have wandered,
Our beautiful life,
deeply, I pondered.
We didn’t go far,
on top of a colourful picnic table we sat,
Park was empty,
She was cold, and needed a hat.
Hope my love,
has kept her warm,
Being good to her,
I strive to perform.
We both looked up,
stared at the sky,
Who taught these white clouds
how to fly?
One looked like a cat,
waiting for its prey,
Except for the wind,
it was a beautiful day.
Another cloud,
looked like a duck,
Not far away –
killing our lungs was a truck.
Eventually,
we’ll move out of the city,
Dreaming of daily midafternoon walks,
not reality but still a pity.
Still sitting there,
talking about future and now,
To cultivate wine,
do we need a plough?
We began to casually
walk back,
To our little downtown,
shack.
We both needed this,
midafternoon walk,
Our love is so strong,
silence is fine,
we don’t need to talk.
by Martin Dejnicki
