My Man's Poetry Poem by cheryl davis miller

Poet’s oft speak of love in such flowery terms
I don’t get what they’re trying to say.
It almost makes me shy away from divulging
how my lover shows love in his way.

Now I’m the word craftsman between he and I
yet he writes poetry silently.
I’ll share a few lines of his work if you like
then you’ll see how he sweet talks me.

Like the day I was trying to mow on a hill
then he hollered out, 'Hey I’ll get that'.
If I did not know how he writes poetry
we may have gotten into a spat.

Whenever the labor is heavy or hard
He bears the load for me.
Some girls would call that chauvinistic
but I call that, poetry.

When he says, 'Lets go for a ride Babe.'
Then climbs up on the tractor seat.
To go look at the hay or a brand new calf
I call that poetry, sweet.

Thirtyfive years of devotion and love
faithfully penned every day.
Now that is some kind of poetry
That mere words could never convey.