Saturday, June 28, 2014


I may not remember our names,
or how your huge hand made a shell for mine,
as if protecting, possessing it,
or how you held me, sustained me

I may not remember being young or growing old,
or how you'd watch me.
"You laugh at the silliest things." You'd say,
then roar as if tickled by absurdity
we captured, frolicked in its rapture.

I may not remember how well you cooked,
the garden you tended,
your addiction to books,
your love - of family and almost everyone you'd meet,
or how you did your best to dance, to whatever tune
I liked, or listen to whatever I perceived important, 
whatever not, dismiss.

But you didn't always succumb to me. 
Did we discuss, fight, fuss?
I probably won't remember. 

When I'm one hundred, 
even if my mind no longer sparks,
but my body still inhales, 
I won't need memories of you. 
You are my breath.

My husband is in a pottery class.
 This sculpture of his grandfather is his first piece.

I went to visit an elementary school with my daughter. (Grandson starts kinergarten in the fall.)  One of the third grade classes was displaying an essay assignment titled "When I'm One Hundred", which inspired me to write this poem.  Some of their ideas were hilarious. So cute.

(Submitted to Dverse Poets.)


  1. Myrna, this is a very touching poem. Some memories are important, and some fade with time. However, I think if a person lives to be 100 and still has the feeling of love, that is an exceptionally wonderful thing. Really enjoyed this, my friend.

  2. This is an excellent poem, Myrna! You have drawn a beautiful portrait. I also love your evocations of your daily life and what cements your relationship. And, I agree, having fun together is good and important.

  3. oh wow myrna - that is so beautiful and your love for him shines through in every line... how wonderful if a relationship grows like that and the becoming one so that the other is your breath... love the sculpture as well... wow - his first piece - he def. got talent

  4. awww...endearing...even after the mind is gone...and all these wonderful memories disappear....the heart will hopefully remember and respond to him....

    i bet they were hillarious to listen to in their responses...

  5. I can't see myself living that long but who knows, it might be a new world ha ~ I actually have a great-grandmother who died at 103 years old ~ Her body was sadly gone, including her memories ~

    Cool piece of your hubby ~ Have a good weekend ~

  6. very endearing write... a tale of everlasting love...

  7. Beautiful words to honor your husband..and i truly think a now is better if the past and future..can be left behind..when possible of course..:)and with emotion and connection as long as there is that..labels for things are secondary to least...

  8. This is very moving, Myrna. I especially like the way his hand cups yours....and his robust laughter...wonderful to have a union like yours to walk through life with. I love the title and would give a lot to read what the third graders wrote! Your husband created a wonderful piece on his first try!!

  9. What a lovely poem. I like the thought that even without your mind a part of you will remember.

  10. My my - this is an ode of love in the strongest degree. Makes me want to know him. Beautiful poem Myrna!

  11. A beautiful love tribute to your husband. Enjoyed !

  12. To be a symbiosis like this the memories are there.. But most importantly is this growing together... To be the breath..

  13. A love poem beyond love poems. Thank you.

  14. So sweet ..true love. I love his first pottery piece! Good for him!

  15. so beautiful dear Myrna… I had to squint, but I think I was able to read all of your loving words. Thank you for staying in touch while I have not been the best of blog friends these past months. It is always a lift to my heart when I see a message from you.

  16. This nearly made me cry. Fantastic. You made me want to embrace my husband.