A Love Built to Last, Not to Impress.

Poem

The Man Who Stays.

I know,
I am not the most charming man,
far from the most eloquent.

I won’t promise you diamonds,
I won’t shower you with gifts—
not all the time.

Maybe you find me hesitant in the present,
my speeches too long,
sometimes dull,
sometimes irritating.

I will not repeat grand gestures,
like the cicada that sings all summer
only to collapse in winter.

A boring man, perhaps,
but always present.

In the heat of summer, a breath of cool air.
In the cold of winter,
a blanket and a cup of chocolate
to warm your heart.

A gift, from time to time,
small surprises—like a touch of spice.
Do not grow too used to them,
do not cling too deeply.

What I offer you fully today
will be yours forever:

eyes that see you,
despite the passing of time;
ears that remain available,
even for the noise of your illusions;
a hand that supports,
that eases,
that encourages.

Without the key to a house,
we sketch an ideal,
placing together, carefully,
stone by stone,
the first layer of its foundation.

I do not offer grand performances—
only small, insignificant gestures,
constant ones.

And this
is how I love.

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Author’s note:

I rarely write romantic poems.

Perhaps because my vision of love is not the most seductive one.
It is quieter. Less dazzling.
More about presence than fireworks.

Sometimes I hesitate to share this side of my writing.
But for reasons I cannot fully explain, I felt the need to offer this one.

If it resonates with you, stay.

And if it doesn’t, stay anyway.

Let’s sit a little longer in this room —
and look together for clarity in the way we love.

With clarity,
The Mirror Room
Odel A.