Ok, so today, yea let me tell you, I get up and I was talking to my boyfriend, after about maybe a half and hour into the convo, my sister decides it’s now convenient to interrupt and make me go elsewhere. At this time, my darling’s cell phone decides to die and go to hell, which is ok, because mine is going to hell, too. So after another half hour or so, I log online and talk with my love. We talk for a little, and then get back on the phone until it cuts out. My boyfriend is jazzing up my site on Angelfire, so, I’ll have that addy for you soon. My man is this computer genius, he can basically do anything with a computer, and in September hopefully he can jazz up my PC. Now I say September, because that’s when I’ll get to see him. You see, he’s enlisted, and not stationed too close to me (location remains undisclosed). That’s ok, though, because you see, he’s absolutely crazy about me and we talk to each other every chance we get.
I never thought that love like this was possible, that it was a movies thing. . . yea, I know, the woman who believes that anything is possible couldn’t believe in a little magic. Now, basically, I believe in it, yet I still feel like it’s a dream, and that I’ll wake up and he and I will still be friends with a crush on each other, and he and I are A LOT alike, so we never mentioned to each other in the course of our friendship that we liked each other in fear that the other party didn’t feel the same way. So, I’m really lucky, because, come on, ladies and gentlemen, how often do people hook up with their crushes? Yea, that’s what I thought, but not just that, how does a wench get such a prince? He once told me that he was a rogue, and I was like, uh hell no you aren’t – if he was, I wouldn’t be with him. He’s far from a rogue.
So other than this, today has been quite slow and sweet. This rant is one of my non – bitchy ones, so don’t get shocked, it’ll happen more often than not. So I’ll leave you all with something he shared with me. . . just picture the beauty. Its winter time in the north, minds are racing and hearts beat fast as carolers wander the down town streets of the rustic little town while snowflakes fall like feathers from the heavens. The snow is lonelier than cold if you know what I mean. That’s not our starting point though......... Our starting point is the next morning, sometime that night the snow turned to slush, to rain, and the farm scape from the most developed "Country areas" turned into a model of ice as snow was glazed by the freezing liquid, that preserved everything’s beauty. the date didn't really start until about seven oh clock, but they had been together since three. those five hours of just being in the others presence were priceless. Yet we digress, the story however continues with the young couple getting all bundled up, and stepping out the door as seven oh five when all was said and done. the pair climbed into an old pick up truck that didn't show signs of its age and drove out for about ten minutes. eleven minutes after getting into the he had just placed it in park while he went to drop the tailgate. She on the other hand had a most unusual item hanging off her arm, a picnic basket. eighteen minutes after they noticed it was seven oh clock and decided it was time to start. They were sitting in the bed of a truck carefully unwrapping the, somehow, steaming hot biscuits his grandmother had made, while a bottle of non-alcohol wine had been carelessly thrown into a nearby snow bank. after the biscuits were finished a few crescent roles were made to disappear with a small margin of butter. about that time the bottle was pulled out, and from the inside of the cloth laden picnic basket she withdrew two glasses and placed them side-by-side. he poured and while she began to fully open the package, setting out two, plastic wrapped plates of meatloaf, and mash potatoes. These had come from his brother Michael, who had been told what was going to happen, everyone else wondered why the two had respectfully declined to dine with the family. it was eight oh clock by the time the two had decided to come back to civilization, reluctantly. the hour had passed on to eight fifteen by the time he finally came in and slid under the big warm comforter with her. From the fire place there lead a trail of splinters to the door where a flannel jack had been carelessly discarded upon the ground. he had gone back and shut the door at ten minutes after eight before proceeding into the kitchen.
Again its eight fifteen and the pair had just gotten comfortable together, he leaning against the foot of a recliner, and she in his lap leaning against him. A mug of hot cocoa sat on either side of the pair, the by-product of three minutes labor in the kitchen, which nicely complimented the powerful crackling of the fire. The by-product of about two minutes work. As the scene fades out to black, the lasting image left in the minds of all who saw, was the look of utter contentment on two young faces, as it was discovered, he could reach his both arms around her, and had just enough room to be able to drink his cocoa with out letting go. Until tomorrow,
~The Poets Hart~