Chapter 2
Now came the hard part - baring his deepest feelings. Once he had the first line down though, he was surprised at how quickly his thoughts began to come to him. By the time he had reached the final letter "N" however, he realized he needed additional content to finish a rhyme in progress, as well as to come to the point. He added on a few more lines, to include an expression of what he wanted to say.
"No, no … this is no good!" he proclaimed out loud, wincing in disgust after analyzing his final production. It seemed rather juvenile to him. He had hopes of writing something profound and flowing, much in the manner of Keats or Browning. Yet here in his hands he held something very far afield from what he had envisioned, and he was somewhat embarrassed. The rhythm was uneven, and the wording was not what he wished. Nevertheless, there it was, laid out on the table. He let his eyes fall over the words once again…
M agnificent are you, in beauty of mind, body and heart,
A ttuned so completely are we – you're my true counterpart.
R iches and glory may make others feel whole,
Y et I find, without YOU, I'm an incomplete soul.
A ll I can dream of is a life with us together,
N ever apart – I want to be with you forever.
N othing would make me happier, out loud to say,
I love you deeply my dear, more and more each day.
L etters and poems are not my mediums of choice,
O bservations and data are what usually give me my voice.
V erbalizing my thoughts is what I'm attempting to do now,
E xcuse this clumsy approach – I really just don't know how.
Y earning to be with you every moment, every day -
O h, please look in my eyes, and I hope that you may…
U nderstand the many feelings I am unable to say.
He was so engrossed in his fumbling composition that the Professor did not notice Mrs. Howell looking in at him through his open window. There he sat at his workbench, with his head buried in his hands, looking completely miserable.
That poor man… she thought to herself. She could not bear to see him struggle so, and therefore decided to give him a little bit of assistance, after her own fashion of course.
Shortly thereafter a light tap on his door interrupted his project at hand.
"Knock, knock" came the lilting sing-song voice of his beloved, as she peeked her head in his doorway. "Mrs. Howell said you needed me to help you proof-read something that…"
Before she had completed her sentence, the Professor grabbed the piece of paper that he was laboring over, and made a quick attempt to hide it behind his back.
"Why, uh… hello Mary Ann," sputtered the Professor, hoping desperately that she had not seen his clumsy attempt to hide the poem. But it was too late.
She walked right up to him, and put her hands on her hips and tilted her head a bit, smiling as she said, "Now come on Professor… What are you hiding? I saw you put that paper behind your back. Mrs. Howell said you needed my help with something you were writing. I can't imagine being able to word anything better than you could, but I would be glad to help you if would like. Is it another portion for your book? Or a description of some new research? Why are you hiding it?" came her questions, one after the other, in rapid succession.
His mind raced to think of a simple and plausible response to her queries, but he could come up with none. He simply sat there with his mouth open, managing only to mutter, "I... well… I…"
Mary Ann had been worrying about him for the past week. He was looking increasing tired, and was not spending as much time with her as he usually did. She could always tell when he had something on his mind of a serious nature. Something was clearly bothering him. Now this strange behavior had her concerned. It wasn't like the Professor to keep things from her. What could possibly be wrong? And what was behind that strange look on his face?
Her concern for him overrode any curiosity she initially had over the contents of his writing, and it drew her in closer and softened her tone. "Show me what you have," she said, sitting down beside him and putting her hand gently on his arm. "Please…"
He looked at her for a moment, at a loss over what to do. She was so sweet, and so sincere… and he always found it very hard to resist her requests when she looked up at him with those big brown eyes. Reluctantly, he handed over the sheet of paper, but cast his eyes downward, unable to watch the reaction that would follow the reading of his exposed feelings.
