BRING ME APPLES

BRING ME APPLES

(FOR KYLE)

You don't often profess your love,

In rosy, flaming oratory,

For words are not your bailiwick,

To cover me in glory

But you bring me cinnamon coffee,

To wake me in the dawn,

Shovel out the driveway,

When there's snow upon the lawn.

Plus a thousand different other things,

Without me even asking.

One might even call you,

King of multitasking.

You bring me nose strips from the drug store,

To help me breathe at night,

Such a nerdy thing to have to do,

But you do it and you get it right.

There's nothing I can't tell you,

You consider it your mission

My tears and past mistakes to hush,

I silently salute you,

Too much praise would make you blush.

You bring me chicken parmesan,

Lean Cuisine, my meal of choosing,

Prescriptions from the pharmacy,

For drugs that I am using.

You also, perhaps best of all,

Bring me apples, those crisp round fruits,

Crunchy red delicious, Gala, Granny Smith,

Whichever the occasion suits,

You bring them home forthwith.

So thank you for the coffee,

Nose strips, drugs and dinners fine,

Plus words that comfort, ears that listen,

Compassion of the grandest kind

For all the times you bring me apples,

Without my even asking,

I bring my kisses and my heart,

Oh king of multitasking.

-Bruce Potts

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