The Decade Diary: A Love Story

The Decade Diary: A Love Story

From A 5th Portion of Chicken Soup for the Soul

The Decade Diary: A Love Story

November 1918

Dearest,

Thanks be to God! The war’s at end!
I’m now on bended knee.
Not just for prayer—I’ll soon be home!
Will you still marry me?

We’ve known each other all our lives.
When did our love begin?
You were my Princess Elsa then;
And I, your Lohengrin.

Remember what you promised me
When we were just thirteen?
But that was ten long years ago . . .
Will you still be my queen?

November 1928

Dearest,

As I was rummaging among
The keepsakes in our chest,
I found the yellowed poem above
And thought how I’ve been blessed.
For when you answered it with “Yes!”
We hardly could delay.
And before the month was even out,
We wed—on Thanksgiving Day.

So now, ten years have passed; it seems
To me like yesterday.
You still have all the beauty any
Flower could display.

November 1938

Dearest,

Has it been ten more years, my love?
And nothing still has changed?
Save one important thing that came
From love we have exchanged.

For what we thought we’d never have . . .
The gift of progeny . . .
My love, I thank you for the son
That you have given me.

November 1948

Dearest,

How ineffectual I feel
When trying to express
How much your love has meant to me . . .
Your kiss and your caress.

You give so freely of yourself
To me and to our son . . .
There is no way I can repay
The things that you have done.

November 1958

Dearest,

Another decade now has passed.
Can it be forty years
That we have shared this life that’s seen
Such happiness and tears?

You’ve stood beside me through it all
(Sometimes behind—and shoved).
What e’er success has come my way
I owe to you, Beloved.

November 1968

Dearest,

We almost made it, didn’t we?
This would have been the Golden . . .
Oh, how I miss you every day.
Our lives so interwoven!
Though you are gone and I am here,
It pleases me to write you,
And to just pretend that once again,
Our love and vows continue.

“Till Death Do Us Part”— this I reject.
For even that can’t sever
The love we had . . . the love we have!
Oh, Dearest, it’s forever!

November 1978

Dear Reader,

Above you’ve read the poetry
My father wrote my mother.
I found them after Daddy’s death,
First one place, then another.

The bulk were found in Mama’s chest,
A ribbon held them tightly;
The last was found beneath her urn,
With tear stains, oh so slightly.

Their wedding anniversary
Was celebrated yearly
Thanksgiving day, no matter if
The date was late or early.

He always said it was the day
Most fitting and most proper
To celebrate the thanks they gave
For having one another.

And now, Dear Reader, I have shared
My daddy’s little lines,
The intimate love story of
A tie that truly binds.

Henry Matthew Ward

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