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Fifteen years ago today, a boyfriend, who lived in a different city at the time, sent me a picture of a single red rose and a bottle of wine that he had waiting for me when I next came to visit. We hadn't even been together three weeks, but the very nice looking army guy chatting me up at the student union bar failed to turn my head that night, because I knew I was already with someone special. That someone is now my husband.
Toby has been so very supportive of my writing, helping me find the time to do my work and taking on more than his fair share around the house at times to allow me to get my work done. So, in honour of Valentine's Day, I dedicate this poem to him. Happy Valentine's Day to everyone, and especially to the one I love.
V.
Roses and Wine.
Our love started in winter
and your arms
kept me from the cold
and from harm.
That first red rose
and our first wine
stay here with me
ever in my mind
throughout passing time.
The taste of chocolate, shared,
follows us through life,
returning in our despair.
And when clouds gather,
angry storms blow through
our home to separate
me and you,
to put us at odds,
we weather it all.
In time
they begin to seem so small.
And after each storm,
and sometimes in sun,
roses and wine take us back
to where love was first begun.
© V. H. Stone.
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