Love notes for winners!

I have a small collection of love letters from the early days of the Hubster's courtship. They are mushy, sweet nonsense. Things I won't repeat here because the Hubster would have me killed by burly, mobbed up felons. Things about my adorable tendency never to shut up. Things about my kind nature and sparkling wit. Things about the Lambada.

I cherish this evidence of our blossoming love. I even wrote a few love letters myself. But time passes and date nights become honeymoon nights. Honeymoons become family vacations. Sometimes, love notes become grocery lists.

That's not to say our love hasn't deepened and intensified, it's simply been driven off the paper and into action. I know my husband loves me because he remembers to take out the trash, to pick up chives on the way home from work, to handle all the vet-related business. I love him back by taking his work shirts to the dry cleaner, poop scooping, and buying his Prilosec.

I also know he loves me because when I face tough choices he supports me, hugs me, tells me he's proud. And I'm proud of him. Especially when I wake up and find a note written in his own hand. A vestige of our first romantic months together when we had time to day dream about the life we might lead, to examine each other's finer points, to cuddle and kiss and caress our way through a quiet evening.

I marvel knowing the Hubster still makes room in his life for a written missive, chronicling the extent of his love for me:

Me, too, lover. I'm filled with the coffee of devotion to you.

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And now, DRUM ROLL PLEASE!

The winner of the "Haiku? I Don't Even KNOW You!" Smutty Poetry Contest and Giveaway:

Nicki at The Loaded Handbag for her hot, hot, hot entry by Billy Shakes (aka William Shakespeare).

Nicki will enjoy hours of poetic entertainment poring over Peyton Price's seven ebooks of Suburban Haiku.

Congrats, Nicki!

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