You told me you would write a poem for me today,
But you never got around to it.
It’s been that way for a week now.
But I’m not upset.
Our love is hard to tie down with words.

You call me babe,
Not honey, or sugar, or sweetheart.
Those words of bitter-sweetness
Never drip like dulcet poison from your lips.

Your passion is numbers,
Not words.
If you could write a poem in measurements,
You could gauge the love of a lifetime.
Heartbeats defined as infinity plus one.
It’s love to the nth degree.

It was chemistry.
What is a mole?
I never understood that concept.
You told me it’s a way of measuring,
Like a dozen.
An amount of an element.

But how can you measure our love in numbers.
You can’t.
It’s simply not elementary.
That’s why you can’t write me a poem.

You can’t figure out a way,
To measure your words.

Words: ©1996LCR
Image: CCO 
Author's Note: Oh my goodness, this poem was written 25 years ago.  How is that possible?  I wrote it for one of my favourite Lit classes in University.  Came across it in one of my old binders as I prep my eldest to head off to college.  I see I liked played with words and meaning even back then.  I guess some things never change.  


  1. So!! Twenty five years ago you were already brimming with talent! I am impressed.

    1. Thank you! I couldn't believe the math!!

  2. You compound my interest
    I’m counting the ways
    I’m finding the common denominator
    of you and me
    and adding
    the possibilities

  3. Wow! How impressive. I completely agree with Helen.

    Also, the the last stanza is a delight.

    1. Thank you so much. This one was part of a larger project I had to do. I have them all but this one stood out amongst the bunch.


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