This one is by actor Peter Gordon, who wrote 8,500 poems for his late wife Alison - placing one under her pillow every day for 25 years. More than 300 poems now form the basis of the website A Love in Verse, which has been collated by the couple's daughters.
What's Afoot?
Well, the weather's fine, the grey clouds glowing,
The chilly wind has got a cheery tale
The mini-raindrops don't care where they’re going
(As long as they can hit the Mafeking trail).
Meanwhile the washing on the line is flapping
And number thirteen's palm is waving wild
The cats may snooze but you won’t catch them napping
And grown up daughters giggle like a child.
What can it be that sets all Brentford beaming
With Christmas still so many days away?
The crisp gold leaves aren't dead – instead they're dreaming
Of some delight – that's happening today!
Welcome back home my love with eyes of blue –
A gull's explained – our world's awaiting you!
And this by the English poet and artist Dante Gabriel Rossetti, whom I know nothing about, but whose beard inspires me to go unshaven today.
Almost Over
You say I should not think upon her now:
But then I have stood beside her listening,
And watched her rose—breathed lips when she would sing:
And I can scarcely yet imagine how
I ever should despise that stately brow
And flowering breast that is so pure a thing.
Alas for all the weary blood—running
When from the heart love strives to tear a vow!
And yet perchance—even as you tell me—soon
Her spirit of my spirit will leave hold,
And, when I hear her tread, I shall not blush
Doubly, for love and shame. But then the moon
Assuredly will rise, and Sleep shall fold
Her hair round me, and Death will whisper Hush!


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