Practice Makes Perfect

Practice Makes Perfect

His patience in predicament has become legendary—
a necessary attribute in one so prone to marry.
He tolerated petulance in the child bride
married out of loneliness after his first wife died.
He tried to build her confidence, but finally set her free,
realizing what she needed most was liberty.
His third wife used another means to put him to the test,
running up his credit cards while feathering his nest.
His fourth wife played around, and the kin of number five
turned his peaceful home into a frantic humming hive.
Only in his dotage did he finally meet his prize—
not as stunning in her beauty, but lovely in his eyes.
No grand faults to overlook. No predicaments to fix.
No petulance to deal with. No relatives to nix.
Marriage done at any age can be pleasure or blight,
but  when he married in his eighties, he finally got it right!!


Prompts for today are tolerate, predicament, nest, legendary and confidence. Photos by JD Mason on Unsplash, used with permission.

6 thoughts on “Practice Makes Perfect


    I really like this one Judy, a story well told, in a way that is striking. I posted a similar one where I tried to do on the female view, a while back but fell short of yours by a long way. Do I see a little factual knowledge in this or is it just a wondering of your mind~?


    1. lifelessons Post author

      Ha.. It is fiction, but I actually married a man who had two marriages and a live-in partner before I married him. And a neighbor who married for the last time at the age of 94. I woke up thinking of him so perhaps he influenced this poem. Then after I’d posted it I went on Facebook and discovered that tomorrow is his birthday. Would have been. He passed away just before Xmas at the age of 96. His wife, still living, is 98 and bright as a button.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. SAM VOELKER

        Yes I saw a little of your book here…
        I was not as kind in the one I wrote about a very good friend who dumped her husbands like using a trash can. All seemed to always be their faults,,,,

        So here is the thought that your poem gave me:

        Wow 94, may be hopes for me yet,
        Compatible companion I may still get,
        but the ones I meet are not as lively as I,
        in fact some to them, I was afraid might die.
        They live in assisted living which has it rules,
        Just like all the girls in the dorms from school.

        You must sign them out and tell where you’ll go,
        why should they ever worry about us though,
        for though my brain is that of a 20 year old,
        the only stories of us are ones already told.
        We are only going to a reading and sit,
        for just an hour or so, if she enjoys it.

        But if she shows that she is going to sleep,
        I must take her home, her hours we must keep,
        though I keep looking for a lady without walker,
        Thought I had found one, but she turned our a talker.
        I could not shut her up and took her back to the home,
        So that is the story of my love life, and I sit here alone.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.