Bud To Blossom
1966 ‘twas that year
for me to claim my majority,
In ways personal, in
ways public, included a marital oath.
Finishing my junior
year at Pacific Lutheran University.
You see, there was
this cute, brown-eyed nursing student
Whose plot to get my
attention had succeeded at Christmas.
Spring 1967, sprung
for us in ways stimulating, some prudent.
Her solid Swedish
lineage a real benefit I would never dismiss.
She, an older junior,
me a first-time senior, I’d do another,
In quiet
conversation, to her my heart’s perception I revealed.
“You, my dear, are
the one woman in my world, no fuss, no bother!”
“I’m honored indeed.
We’ve some work to do that’s not congealed.”
Dating proceeded with
its amazing rhythm, delightful curves.
Campus talk
proclaimed loudly, “Their truly an item.”
Hands held, midnight
air-kisses, many emotional dips, swerves,
Summer came without a
flower, only a lovely bud on the stem.
Often, the pledge was
made, “I’m ready. Will you be my wife?”
Brown eyes lowered,
hands firmly held, “I can date but not yet.”
August arrived,
Portland’s version of heat, humidity to cut with a knife.
We made countless
trips from Hillsboro to Portland our love to vet.
Sitting in my stuffy
car, at the end of another day of bliss,
“I’ve an old question
that needs to have a final answer.”
I turned my Norwegian
blues upon my fair, lovely Swedish miss.
“This time I must
warn you, ‘twill be the last, don’t hesitate or demur.”
“Will you be my
wife?” stated calmly, without rancor or pain.
Her face gazed with a
glow that only love and respect could bring.
“I was hoping you’d
ask me one more time, waiting makes me insane.”
The car suddenly
changed its ambience, two hearts ready to sing.
The bud of romance
came to full bloom that day.
My pastoral counsel
to countless couples found its root.
Spirit will guide
your relationship every step of the way.
Matrimony, the Ph.D.
of intimacy, God’s love at its foot.
The Rev. Ronald Allen
Melver, M.Div.
4 March 2013
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