I may not have been the most ideal husband

that you could have had, baggage

galore and the wandering lust of the insecure,

not content in boredom and one who finds

it near impossible to dance. Married once before,

turned down twice more and the ignominy

of walking away from an Hispanic woman

who offered me the world, pompous at times

and stubborn as Hell when it comes to backing down

and the worry I have caused as I continue

to break down piece by piece by infuriating

piece and the times when I drag you out of the chair

and there is no peace…

 

…and yet you thank me for being here all the time

and there is no one who has ever seen so

much good in me and that in the end

becomes the point, for you, I continue

to try and rebuild, restore and cause revolution

and despite my clumsy state of mind,

the lack of decorum when I flirt

and make others smile, you take with grace

and pull me back before I make the ultimate

stupid remark, but who has also been on hand

when I have said the wrong thing, to back me up

when those with evil try kicking me back down…

 

I owe you so much for saving me from the streets

and the raving death of homelessness

or worse, getting on a plane with my last

few hundred pounds, borrowed from a friend

to get me away and sitting contemplating life

in a cabin in Canada, a shot gun primed

to pass the time, one shot past midnight

and the world a happier place.

I offer no monetary value, I offer no security

and peace of mind, I can only offer you

the things that was missing

in your life, the chance to smile and laugh

and the love of someone who, despite being

unable to dance,

has rescued you just as much

as you cleaned me.

 

Ian D. Hall 2015