A Valentine’s Day Sonnet Story
Love in Memories is a story told by Gerald, a retired English Lit professor, who has been writing sonnets to his wife each year since she passed. In honor of Valentine’s Day, the story will only last 14 days.
Day 1:
Oh Emmaline, a year has come and gone
and still I wake up with the thought to see
your face in the morning light of the dawn.
Who would have thought the one who stayed was me.
I still remember when I first saw you,
the new professor in a bright red heel
had tripped and fallen but now what to do
the way you stood you had my heart to steal.
As if the queen you were to all around
You stood back up with poise and regal grace
and then retrieving your bag from the ground
your shoes restored, a smile on your face.
I knew right then that you were one so rare
but on that day all I could do was stare.
Day 2:
My dear, the time has come again to write
and as if you had never been away
the birds you loved all took to sudden flight,
their vibrant sight, your way to start the day.
Back then you made the words inside me stop
and I, who taught the classic books of old,
felt often quite as foolish as a fop,
could never with you conversation hold.
But just to listen, just to hear your voice
it mattered not if I spoke nay a word
as if I could for you gave me no choice
you were so cute, just wanting to be heard.
Sweet Emmaline, two years have passed us by.
Are you looking down on me from the sky?
Day 3:
It shouldn’t be so hard to write, my dear
yet hard they are the words to come I find
our children still give me a list’ning ear
but you are who I still hear in my mind.
I was the lucky one to ask you
where your response was a resounding yes
but when all I wanted to do was shout
in honesty, our first date was a mess.
The rain and wind, our walk proved soon to fail
and wallet lost, no money that I had
while though I feared that one or both would bail,
your rain-drenched grin soon showed that you were glad.
It was right then that I knew it was love.
Are you still watching me from up above?
Day 4:
Four years gone by and many more ahead,
yet still your presence is the tie that binds
for whether it be toy or book or sled,
your memories are now our treasured finds.
There was that winter, many years ago,
The air was cold and snow fell three feet high.
You took my hand, though I was moving slow
towards the hill and sled so we could fly.
I don’t know who was louder, you or me
but we were gliding down that hill so fast
The snow flew in my eyes, I could not see
and with a bump, we tumbled off at last.
And so my dear, another memory done.
On dreary days, I think back on the fun.
Day 5:
I thought this morning of a joke for you
that took me back to what we shared in school,
but when I said it, oh dear, what to do.
The grandkids told me, “That was so not cool.”
I am afraid the time when we were fun
has rolled away just like the morning mist.
So as it seems my joking days are done,
I’ll start again with your old reading list.
I still remember when you wrote it down,
the single sheet that grew a mile long
and as you wanted books more than a gown,
to get them for you, I was never wrong.
But with so many books you did not read,
for you, my dear, I will complete the deed.
Day 6:
My dear, it seems the time has slipped me by.
So fast the days move, quicker than the sun
but still I take the time to watch the sky
for that was your way to say day was done.
Oh Emmaline, you could not dance a bit
yet carefree that you were, I was so moved.
You twirling, glowing as a candle lit,
to me, the better dancer you had proved.
We had our music and our favorite song,
the records playing only for us two
and with stepped on toes never lasting long,
there weren’t too many songs we made it through.
And when the night comes, we will dance once more
but then instead we’ll have a heav’nly floor.
Day 7:
If only I could rewind time to see
the memories of us that start to fade.
Within the mind, the place where they should be
is like a pool that I must start to wade.
If I could choose, I would start with the day
that we were married, yes, that would be great.
To see you walking down the aisle that May,
you were so slow and I was forced to wait.
I still do laugh about the flower girl
who felt the same and said you need to run
She took your hand and you gave her a twirl
then you gave me a look and I was done.
Waiting for you, I never will regret
and there I’ll stay forever in your debt.
Day 8:
I find myself looking forward to night
where dreams exist and there I know you’ll be
but when the time comes for the morning light,
you cannot stay, though hard I make my plea.
To be with you, that was my greatest joy,
no other woman had your light to shine.
And though I did things that could well annoy,
it was enough to know that you are mine.
Eight years with you just on the other side,
keeping an eye so that I don’t mess up
So patiently my time here I will bide
and every year to you, I’ll raise a cup.
Sweet Emmaline, how long must I still wait
to take you once again out on a date.
Day 9:
I hope I did not make you sad last year,
the sonnet that I wrote was not my best.
But if you think I’m done for, have no fear,
I’ll surely put your training to the test.
Debating with you over syllabi
and what to cover next was really fun,
your thoughts moving so fast, they seemed to fly
with you so quick to tell me what was done.
And though I had taught longer than you had,
your teaching there had taught me something new
To think outside the box, for that I’m glad.
Amazing all the things of which you knew
I fear I’ve lost my touch as you can see,
my dear, a writer like you I would be.
Day 10:
Our grandson has a new fiancee now
proposing to her earlier today
from what I’ve heard, he gave a solemn vow
but as you know, I taught him what to say.
I know now what I didn’t know back then
like what to say to win the future wife.
But before you can stab me with your pen,
remember that I owe you for my life.
Your passion for the world around you still
keeps me from falling in the blackest hole.
Your love, my dear, has given me the will
to face the world before the bell doth toll.
Ten years it’s been since you have left my side,
when my time comes, perhaps you’ll be my guide.
Day 11:
I finished building a greenhouse to grow,
okay, not me, but I had supervised.
It was built wide and we did build it low,
to hold all of the flowers that you prized.
The roses and the daises that you love,
the hyacinth and amaryllis too,
the glass that will protect from up above
and let the flowers do what flowers do.
There is a bench inside the greenhouse now
I go in there to sit and think and pray,
the peaceful air does calm my furrowed brow
to think of all the words you’d like to say.
My Emmaline, I watch the fading sky.
How long until I bid this world goodbye?
Day 12:
My Emmaline, another year is through,
grandchildren getting older by the day,
and as the grandfather, what can I do?
I sit back and relax and watch them play.
I’ve made great progress on your reading list,
one hundred books, a thousand more to read.
Heaven forbid there was a book you missed,
but have no fear, your list is what I’ll heed.
You gave our family the gift of words,
a gift far greater than I ever could,
and though we joked your thoughts were for the birds,
your presence did us all a world of good.
Twelve years and still your voice speaks in my mind,
always saying there’s yet more peace to find.
Day 13:
I thought long and hard about writing this,
the number is unlucky after all,
though ’13’ is one that I’d hate to miss,
your superstitious self would like to stall.
But maybe it’s a good thing you’re not here,
so that you must receive what I will give.
Because words are the music to your ear,
it is through words that I can make you live.
My dear old girl, I feel you still around,
your laughter in the air, I hear it well.
Those memories, just like my favorite sound,
are memories that I could never quell
The stars are shining brightly in the sky,
perhaps they are the twinkle in your eye.
Day 14:
In the greenhouse are photos of you, dear,
that I have placed to celebrate your life.
They speak to me, so only I can hear
the memories of you, my precious wife.
It’s hard to walk or write much anymore
I felt my strength begin to wane and yet
to get to you I must pass through the door,
the path to which I shall not soon forget.
Our family has grown, a blessed sight
so now I need not fear that they are left
for they learned from your goodness and your light
and when I leave, they will not be bereft.
The night has come and with it, time to rest.
To see you once again, I shall be blest.
Click here to access the rest of the stories from the One Year, Twelve Stories project
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