Magnetic Valentine's Poem

Close to my house there is a used bookstore called The Book Nook. Its children's section had a set of magnetic words on a metal file cabinet. David and I walked over to the mall to play with the words all the time; it was one of our favorite dates. But, unfortunately, The Book Nook recently relocated to another space in the mall and with its renovation, the magnetic words were somehow taken away.
But! Happy ending! David bought me a Magnetic Poetry set (along with the expansion pack: Happiness) for Valentine's Day!

His clue was "something we used to do all the time but can't anymore." Isn't that cute? <3

So, to repay him for one of my favorite gifts ever, I've "written" this belated Valentine's poem.
(Punctuation added, of course.)

Let the petals of peaches dress your head
Together beneath the summer blue sky
the sun's wax smelling sweet,
we fiddle with tiny pictures of happiness.
My friend, love, ache & giggle!
The rust of sunshine full on you
brings me mad!
In light's pink gown I am not as warm
as in your arms.

It was a bit messier on the board. I had to stack an "an" on "warmth" and an "s" on top of that.

My Dancing Heels will Feel the Love

(Soundtrack: "Darling I Do" by Lucy Schwartz and Landon Pigg.)
December 9th on my calendar has a highlighter trim.  It marks fourteen months since the night David sang "Heaven's Light" and I kissed him at his front door.  The first sweet kiss of my life, but not the last.

Recently we've strayed away from having dates, real dates, when we go somewhere, do something special.  Like married folk, I guess, we've fallen into a routine: pick up a Little Ceasar's pizza, go home, watch a movie, kiss, hold, David plays and we sing, dance, and just hang out.

But today David asked me what I'd like to do for our next month-a-versary.  My eyes swept over the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling.  "Why don't we eat at Panera Bread?" was my first suggestion.

Then, I felt the warm sensation, the desire to dance, melt over me.

We dance every so often on our regular days together and I wanted it to be more special, befitting the celebration of fourteen months.  I wanted to go on more dates.  To do special things together like we used to.

Baking an apple  Picnicking at our fountain.  Leaving encouraging notes at the library.  The Terrible Movie Marathon.  Finding the best smelling candle at Hallmark Gift Shop.  Our air hockey match.  (Which I lost, but not for lack of spirit.)

In my Facebook notes I have plans for dates never done.  Spend a day in the park, pretending to be an elderly couple, costumes and everything.  Make caramel corn.  Play on a swing set in the moonlight.  Yell funny things from the top of tall buildings.

What hinders the special time couples spend together? Is it only becoming complacent? Does time sap away our enthusiasm for such things? It seems that time wears down the greatest delights in life.  Going on dates and making love become things for which a couple must learn to make time.

Bill Cosby says in Cosbyology: Essays and Observations from the Doctor of Comedy that there are certain loving acts you do for your loved one at the beginning of the relationship that somewhere along the way you stop doing.  It's not because you don't want to do it, he says.  Or because you can't do it.  You just don't anymore.

Maybe this isn't bad.  Maybe it's just life.  However, David and I are young.  Our relationship is a fledgling.  And I am greedy.  For my fourteenth months spent with David, I want to dance and I want it to be special.

So.  We're going to drive to random places, find a nice floor, envelope one other, and dance to music he murmurs in my ear.  And I'll sing back... when I'm not kissing him.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.  You make me happy when skies are gray.  You'll never know, dear, how much I love you.  They won't take my sunshine away."