The Time Traveler and his Wife

Watching the sun rise above

The gentle clouds in the summer day, 
I watch and observe as the butterflies

Fly around my head,

Smelling the warmth and sweetness

That the air comes to bring.

Letting the wind play with my

Red auburn hair, I suddenly see

A shadow, an outline. Something

That wasn’t there before, but now is.

It frightens me at first, sending chills

On every since of my skin.

But as I observe even more,

I see man, his brown hair

Gently going into his eyes,

Looking slightly afraid yet calmed at the same time.

When he sees me, he smiles

Brightly, saying that he’s a time traveler

And that we’re friends in the future. 
I don’t understand and I don’t believe him,

But we speak about it with all my trust.

He tells me time travel is just like a record tape;

If you wanted to listen to a song, you’d go back

And replay it again. Or if you wanted to go to a different

Song, you’d go forward instead of backwards.

I’m slightly getting it, but I’m still so young.

This is the year 1977 and I’m six years old.

 

 

Taking a walk around the town,
I go into a library I've never been in, 

Going up the concrete stairs and through the double doors. 
The smells of worn books, new books, and wood come into

Play, putting a  small smile onto my face as I sign 

Into the library and buy myself a card. 

Searching for a book about a paper for school, 

I ask the woman where it would be and

I suddenly see a face that warms my face, 

My heart bursting with happiness as I 

Went up to Henry DeTamble,

The man I’ve fallen in love with so many times before.

I tell him that I’m Clare Abshire, and I knew him

Ever since I was a little girl, realizing that

He wouldn’t know me or remember as

I see his expression reading confusion,
One of his co-workers giving him an odd look.

 I then ask him out for dinner, hoping with all my

That he’d say yes. But for some gut reason,

I knew he would say yes, knowing that he’d curious 
About the how’s and why’s of how I came into his future life.

 

 

 Smoothing my dress out for the evening,

I wait nervously and with a smile,

Hoping that my calm red lipstick was on my lips right.

I then saw Henry walking towards me with a rose

In his hands, tossing it to me with a small,

Yet uncertain smile upon his lips. 
I plucked the rose in mid-air and smelled it, sitting

On the opposite side the table

As Henry took his spot facing me.

He had never given me a rose before

Beforehand and thanked him for the flower.

Then we ordered our meals,
Taking a sip of the wine that I had as
Henry  was direct with what was on his mind;

‘Tell me everything. How do you know me?’

Watching his expressions go from one to another,

I took another sip of my water and 

I started off from the beginning to where 

I saw him as a little girl and weaved into

The fact that everything that had happened

To me hadn’t happened for him yet,

Holding his hands when I saw

That it was too much for him to handle.
He kindly told me to back up and to

Act like this was our first take,
Going back to the seat that I was at.

Later on that night, we make love

And I feel the loneliness of two years in my heart melt away,
Our bodies entwining while our kisses are sweet.

This is our first date, and I’m twenty years old.

 

"You're not good enough, you're not good enough!" 

Jason’s words go around in my mind only filled with

Anger, and I try to not lean against so hard against my back.

The bruises from last night feel  like needles piercing my skin, hurting

Even more worse than when I had gotten home.  
I’m in the car driving Henry to Jason’s house,

Telling him everything from the date to

The make out spot and with my refusal,

Already have given my heart to Henry a long time ago. 

The day before, we went to a party and had him

Meet my friends for the very first time,

Hoping he wouldn’t get nervous because I brought him with.

But right now we’ve already gotten to Jason’s house and

Gotten him in the car, going off towards a forest nearby

To make him suffer for what he’s done.
At first, I take my father’s gun out of the
Glove department, feeling the warmth of
Henry’s hand go upon mine, telling me
That I’m being too rash.  I give him the gun,

And grab some duck tape and a magic maker,

Taping him to a tree and write all over his chest.

I can see the fury in Henry’s eyes, knowing that

Because of how Jason had treated me on that date.

I then left Jason the way he was, telling Henry

That I would call every girl that I knew to get

The a*****e off from the tree that he was on.
I watched Henry then threaten Jason

Of ever muttering that he was around,

The anger in his voice spitting out like wild fire

As he spoke and had the barrel of the gun

Underneath Jason’s chin.

This is the year of 1987 and I’m sixteen years old.

 

The air feels like cool silk against my skin,

The sun exposing its rays as though

It knew that I was going to draw today.
Henry is here in the Meadow with me,

His face seeming calm and peaceful;

As though nothing in the world was going to

Bother him or have him worry where he

Was going to end up next. I see him move around,
Quietly telling him to stay where he is;

He was perfect in the position that he was in.

I then draw his eyes, his mouth, his nose,

And his brown perfect hair is brushing against his forehead.

I’m about to put date down, but Henry

Stops me in a heart beat, telling me that

The picture had no date when it was in the future.

So I keep the date untouched and draw him

With caution, watching the sun twinkle in the leaves of the trees.

But then I wonder about what would happen if

I wrote the date, asking Henry with a

Dripping curiosity on what his thoughts were on

What would  happen if  I wrote the date, kidding each other on how

He would cause World War III. I then listen carefully,
And I hear Henry to tell me to write the date.  
Suddenly,  he’s telling me that he’s going,

Quickly pressing my lips against his as I feel him

Fade away like a sunset during the dawn

As he’s leaving to go to another year in time.
This is the year of 1988 and I’m seventeen years old.

 

The fog steams up my image

In the apartment mirror, letting my
Dark, thick red hair tickle my shoulders.

I think about cutting my hair,
Annoyed by the fact that I have

To work so hard at brushing it.
I want it to be simple and short, yet fun and sexy.

But as much as Henry loves me and my soul,
I know he would be crushed to

See my hair cut off, and deep down,
I would be too, only complaining

Because I have to work at my hair

And to keep it the way it is.

Brushing the tangles and snarls

Out of my hair, I eventually get

Ready and dressing, the aura

Of spices and asparagus filling the air.

I grin and take a seat at the table,
Henry takes the seat opposite of me,
Setting two bowls of soups down,

And I ask him what it is.
He mentions that it’s his grandma’s recipe,

Taking the spoon to take in the tastefulness of it all,

And I compliment him that it tastes really good.
Then we talk about a question that has been following me

For a few days, asking him if we have too much sex.

Henry tells me that we haven’t, and that he would

Somedays would like to just lie in bed with me all day

If he could, his hand lacing mine as he has me follow

Him into the living room of the apartment to show me something.

I waited with butterflies traveling throughout my body,

Feeling as nervous as when we both kissed eachother for the first time.
When he kneels on one knee, asking me to marry him,

I swore that everybody in the world could see my smile
And tell him yes in a blink of an eye.

The year is 1992, and this is my twenty first birthday.

 

Getting married on October 23^rd 1993,

And trying hard to conceive a living baby,

I think the stress of trying to start a family

Is getting to Henry, already having

 Five miscarriages in the past year or so.

I feel a pang of guilt and I’m kind of afraid,
Henry’s shadow getting smaller as he

Walks out of the living room in the house.

All the questions are buzzing around my head;

How long is he going to be gone?
Will he come back tonight or disappear?

Am I giving him too much stress on his shoulders

About starting a family right now?

I shake my head and try not to worry,

Knowing that if he was under stress,

Then his disease would feed off of the negative stress.

So I go into the kitchen and make a cup of tea,
The tea kettle sitting on the fire as it works to get warm.

My emerald eyes start to bounce off of ever item

In the kitchen, going from the oak chair to the clock

And then the midnight skies, the stars showing off

As though they were newly clean cut diamonds.

I let my mind wander and think about how badly
I want us to make a miracle in our lives,

And how badly I want to show fate that
I can make a baby against its will.

I just want to prove myself wrong.

I almost get lost in my thoughts

And hear the whining of the tea kettle.

By the time I get it all ready, all drank up,

And into the cabinets, I sit on the maroon

Couch and read a book that I had started on,

Eventually falling asleep to the words in my mind.
The next day, I learn that Henry had landed in 1986 and gotten a vasectomy

And at the same time, soak up that I’m four weeks pregnant.

This is the year of 2001 and I’m 30 years old.

 

Henry told me that we would have a

Beautiful daughter, having her daddy’s image,

Yet my bright personality. We had to think

Long and hard about what her name would be,

Getting to the name Alba DeTamble.

It’s sounds lovely, and I just want to cry,

Learning that she has the same Chrono-Displacement disease,
Except perfecting it more than Henry could.

This makes me wonder about the future

With the three of us, trying to see

The bright side against my pessimistic thoughts.

I hope that I can eventually not worry

About if Henry will be gone for days, weeks, years,

Never being able to feel his smooth, warm skin against mine

When we both go to sleep at night.

I love him too much to lose him to his own battle.

So all I can do it wait for the future and stand by

Henry’s side as his best friend, his lover, his wife.

I will be with him until death does us apart.

 I love you, Henry DeTamble.
You’ve always had my heart in your hands

And throughout time. 

Author's Note

The POV of the time traveler and his wife.
I'm starting to read the book right now. :] And it's jumped around in the poem because there are certain times that Henry goes back to, so it's not in order. I apologize for the length,but it kind of makes some sense. :/ The book's about 500 pages, so I wanted to get major things I read while I skipped around. xD

And the disease that Henry has is the Chrono-Displacement Disease, which is how he time travels.
The side effects is not having any clothing when 'jumping' to another time.

This poem was going to be a collaborating beforehand.

Reviews

[Lorraine]

You just made me want to read that book myself. Even if I hadn't read it, your poem pretty much gave me an idea on it. No wonder it sounded more like a story than a poem. Then of course, the poetry feel to it is there. Good Job.

Keep Writing. ^___^

[Sean M. Addams]

i liked this alot ..sorry I could really add anything but i thought you did an amazing job on this... i'll defintley have to watch the movie:)