Friday Fiction "I Always Will"

It's Friday! That means Friday Fiction.
Skip over to Christina Banks' With Pen in Handfor some more great stories.

This is a love poem I wrote a few years ago. I hope you like it.



I Always Will

Little Johnny thought Mary
Was the prettiest thing.
He pulled her pigtails
And made her scream.

He shot her with spitballs
And rubber bands
And walked upside down
Upon his hands.

“I love you, Mary,
I always will.”
Then chased her down
Over Crabapple Hill.

She stuck out her tongue,
Said, “Go away!
You’re a silly pest, Johnny,
I don’t want to play.”

He followed her everywhere
He wrote her notes,
He carried her books,
And held her coats.

“I love you, Mary,
I always will.”
He gave her a kiss
On Crabapple Hill.

He often brought daisies
Or sang her a song.
He was always there
The whole day long.

One day in a chapel,
In white garments dressed,
He gave her a ring
And by God was blessed.

“I love you, Mary,
I always will.”
He built her a house
On Crabapple Hill.

Days became busy
With children and life,
But Johnny worked hard
For the best for his wife.

Sometimes, she shunned him;
And pushed him away.
But he never got angry
Nor tried to repay.

“I love you, Mary,
I always will.
I keep my word,
My promises fill.”

Mary’s dimples faded,
Her cheeks soft instead.
Her dark, curly braids,
Wrapped about her head.

His cheeks got wrinkled;
And his head grew hoary.
He smiled to himself,
And repeated his story.

“I love you, Mary,
I always will.”
They strolled through the grass
On Crabapple Hill.

Mary blushed at his words,
And wiped away a tear,
“You hopeless fool,
You’re a silly old dear.”

Johnny smiled as she
Gave him a peck.
She wrapped her thin arms
About his neck.

“I love you, Mary,
I always will.”
Reads the cold, white stone
On Crabapple Hill.

4 comments:

Stina Rose said...

This brought tears to my eyes.

Cal said...

This becomes more poignant as you grow older. Then you reach 65 and 68, and you look ahead to the possible years you have together. You regret the times you failed to say, "I'm sorry," or "I love you." Mend your ways; it's not too late. For those younger than we, take head.

Laury said...

Love this poem.

Rita's Random Ramblings said...

Wiping the tears. Love it!

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