Love Poems

LOVE POEMS
 
Poems About Love, that have come from a spirit, maybe ?
 
 
THE BOX
 
Did you ever forget your birthday ?
A short story.
 
This entire year, for me, has been full of guidance, messages and lucky occurrences,
some of which may have saved my life. [long story]
 
The bit, that I want to explain to you involves some coincidences. I will now go back to
2011, when I was totally absorbed, in the full time occupation, of  looking after Joyce. I
really did not know, sometimes, what day it was. I had little sleep, because I was working
in my kitchen, at night, trying to work out glass sizes and manufacturing sheets, for my
business of Ross Windows.
 
I had an appointment to give a quotation to some old friends and customers, who live
close by. I had Barbara, who we know from Country and Western Dancing, a Heaven Sent
Friend, who used to sit with Joyce, when I went out and I arranged to see these people, on
one of Barbara’s Days. The day was Tuesday 18th. October. I carried out a survey for a fairly
large contract and I wrote down the date as 17th. October. As I wrote the date down, I said,
“it’s my birthday today”. I was then given a cheque, for a deposit. The date on the cheque
was 18th.October. I suddenly realised, that my birthday had come and gone, without me
realising. I found this quite amusing, but quite easy to do, under the circumstances.
 
Joyce, my wife died, just over a month later, on Monday, 21st. November, 2011.
 
So now, I shall fast forward to 20th. July, 2013, when I was in Normandy. I had been asked to
make a BOX, which had to match two plant containers. I had designed the BOX and provided a
very simple, technical type drawing. The lady, that I was working for, then proceeded to criticise
my design and gave me a three dimensional sketch, with new dimensions. She also gave me some
very vivid instructions, on just how I should go about making this BOX. So I proceeded to assemble
this BOX, which was a cosmetic cover, for a pair of gas bottles. The bottles were about two feet high.
I made her write down all the dimensions, because I already knew, that the job would be a complete
disaster, to put it politely.
 
I spent the entire day of Saturday, 20th. July, 2013, assembling this BOX. One of  a carpenter’s golden
rules is always keep offering the job up. So I pinned the BOX together, the best way I could with the
tools, that I had, which were somewhat limited. I then put the BOX in position over the gas bottles.
I could not complete it, as we had run out of wood, but I managed to improvise a reasonable BOX.
The lady, then came and inspected my BOX. She decided, that it was too big, so I showed her a copy,
of the dimensions that she had given me. The BOX ended up being placed at the back of her garage.
 
The following day was Sunday 21st. July. At the time, I was not aware of these dates, I just knew, that
it was Sunday. I thought to myself, that it must be Joyce’s 70th. birthday about now. Her date of birth
is 20th. July. I then checked the date, only to realise, that her birthday had come and gone. I spent her
entire birthday, making that BOX. This reminded of the time, that I missed my birthday and I was once
again amused by these circumstances.
 
I kept asking myself, why had all this had happened. I found myself thinking , that Joyce may have wanted
me to postpone her Birthday. Whenever we had a special birthday, we would usually have a party at the
Rushall Club, which is near to Weston’s Cider Factory, where we go dancing.
 
I returned to England shortly after all this. I travelled back the following Thursday and I was home in the
early hours of Friday morning. I then needed to have a good sleep, after such a long journey, which included
five hours on the Le Havre Ferry, with two dogs in my little Ford Focus. I was more alive on Saturday, so I went
out to a dance, that evening, at our local community centre. I later discovered, that there had been a dance
at Rushall Club and I thought I may have missed a Birthday Party, because the organiser has a Birthday, about
this time. When Joyce was alive, we would often arrange to have our parties together. I later found out, that
an Irish Performer was supposed to be coming, but he was unable to make it to the event, so a quiet night was
had by all. I never did find out who the singer was, other than there was still a nice dance.
 
Once again Joyce’s Birthday had been postponed. Barbara has her birthday in July. I still dance with Barbara,
but she can little more than shuffle. No energetic dancing. I had met a nice lady, before I went to France. She was
a MEDIUM and told me about Fields of Buttercups and Horses etc. I went to help at a farm, which normally cares
for retired Horses, belonging to the Brigitte Bardot Foundation and the fields there were full of Buttercups. Since I
returned to England, I have become quite friendly with this Lady. She also had an Australian friend, who had come
over to stay with her.
 
As a result of this friendship I was invited to a Birthday Party. Both these ladies are celebrating their 70th. Birthday.
They  are having their party together. The party was at a Village Hall, which is close to where I used to live, when
Joyce was still alive. I have been to two dances at this Hall, on both occasions, with Joyce. One of these dances was
to celebrate a Birthday. I then found out, that the one of these ladies, had her birthday, on the same day, that Joyce
died. I remember looking at the Balloons and the Birthday Cake in the corner and everything suddenly dropped into
place. I have been told, that a BOX, has a symbolic meaning. It can be a place to store all your problems. If the box is
left behind, then so are your problems. Maybe a BOX can also be a place to keep something, until a later date. The
lady I made the BOX for also celebrates her 70th. Birthday this year. There is a message somewhere here, but I can’t
quite work it out, maybe I never will, but I have feeling, that another message is still to come. Another piece to the
jigsaw puzzle.
 
When I was driving home, from the party, I went by the River, where Joyce’s Ashes were scattered. As I went by, some
words entered into my head. PERPETUAL MOTION. It was the title for my next Sonnet. So I went home and wrote it,

before I went to bed. I finished at 3-00am.
 
SO THIS IS ONE WAY, HOW TO MAKE A POEM.