This was given to me a long time ago, in a galaxy far far away. Being a hoarder is the opposite of my style, I keep that which is precious to me.
I don't know where he is, now, I still have his poem.
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What is a wife?
She's sunshine and laughter, she's moonlight and roses
The lilt in the love songs a writer composes
A hopeless romantic and realist in one
Who knows that her husband is second to none
A starry eyed girl with her dolls packed away
And her heart in the home that she's making today
A woman who capably works out a plan
With feminine "logic" that mystifies man
She's sweetheart, companion and weaver of dreams,
A lovable creature who always, it seems
Is delighted by babies, depressed by the rain,
Devoted to fads she, herself, can't explain
A darling, who though she may puzzle and tease you
Asks no more of life than to pamper and please you
And the chance when you're tired or lonesome or blue
To set your whole world right with the words....
"I love you."
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An awakened man goes to the kitchen to make his own sandwich.:)
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