Here is yet another poem I've written for my wife:
Miss Galaxy
(for Cynthia Lou Erlandson)
Some three cubed years ago, I felt your pull:
The heartward tugging of a heart most full.
The law of Isaac Newton bade me enter,
Falling through your gates, to find your center.
To know your inner depths, I chose my goal,
And rocket toward the center of your soul.
I’m eight-point-two-eight parsecs closer now,
From speeding quick as Einstein will allow.
Your bright and fiery acts of love, your suns,
Go blazing past me as if shot from guns.
Though some are dim and in periph’ral vision,
Others, closer, scorch and risk collision.
My world, my heart, my Apostolic See,
My burning love, my own Miss Galaxy.
(for Cynthia Lou Erlandson)
Some three cubed years ago, I felt your pull:
The heartward tugging of a heart most full.
The law of Isaac Newton bade me enter,
Falling through your gates, to find your center.
To know your inner depths, I chose my goal,
And rocket toward the center of your soul.
I’m eight-point-two-eight parsecs closer now,
From speeding quick as Einstein will allow.
Your bright and fiery acts of love, your suns,
Go blazing past me as if shot from guns.
Though some are dim and in periph’ral vision,
Others, closer, scorch and risk collision.
My world, my heart, my Apostolic See,
My burning love, my own Miss Galaxy.
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