You Rode in on a Firebird

First of all, Happy New Year!  I hope 2013 brings all of you what you want most.

Image courtesy of MR LIGHTMAN
 / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Since this is a holiday, my normal posting schedule isn't going to work out 100% this week, but I still wanted to share something with all of you.

This is a poem I wrote for my husband.  It's a tribute to our relationship, and it shows just how geeky the two of us can be.

You Rode in on a Firebird

I’ll never forget the way

you showed up at my door.

Dressed in a suit of armor,

you impressed me all the more.

With a winning smile and eyes

of magical, sparkling blue,

you made me tingle head to toe . . .

something no one else could do.

With a wave, you led me out

to the drive to see your chariot.

A grand vehicle of bluish green,

it rivaled all the best . . .

Okay.  That isn’t exactly how it went.

Yes, I romanticized it just a tad.

Though you wore a ratty band shirt,

I want to capture the feelings I had.

A chariot, your Firebird was not,

but there was appeal in its name.

Once inside, we were transformed,

and my life would never be the same.

Sitting beside you in that car,

everything began to warp and morph.

Your modest car became a starship;

anticipation flooded me with warmth.

From there, you and I rocketed away,

and we were off, seeking universal delights.

In the course of our adventures,

we’ve soared to such great heights.

Fine.  That’s not how it happened.

I might have exaggerated a bit.

We have gone a long way together,

not in style, but better because of it.

So we rode in your modest car,

and watched movies in the basement.

We watched Babylon 5, and I knew.

For you, there’d be no replacement.

In the years that followed, we dreamed

with the Stars (both Trek and Wars).

We laughed with the Red Dwarf crew

while ignoring a few boring chores.

Firefly entertained us for a time,

and Doctor Who adventures still.

I enjoy these shows on my own,

but with you, there’s an extra thrill.

You may not be an alien

hailing from an exotic land.

Even so, I can say most certainly,

I was right to hold your hand.

You may not be a starship pilot,

boldly flying into danger.

Nor are you a reluctant king,

but I’m glad you’re not a stranger.

Years later, we have a family

that brings us so much each day.

No matter what ill may come,

we’ll be together all the way.