I may forget to tell you things: how much
I love you, how my wayward thoughts will turn
to you, the way you look, your scent, your touch.
I may forget all this because I burn
with passion for a cause. Please understand,
my love. Who else will take and beat this drum,
who’ll leap into the fray and fight? Who’ll stand
up front to right what’s wrong should I become
domesticated, tame, attend that play
or take up contract bridge? I may forget
to phone you, and I’m not the kind to say
sweet wifely things; sometimes, to my regret.
Yet this is me – please love me, cause and all;
be quick though Hon, I’m waiting on a call.