Has anyone ever written a poem for you? About you? If not, I highly recommend befriending a poet and getting on with that project, because it's easily one of life's most exquisite pleasures. Especially when the poet is as gifted as my astonishing (and astonishingly prolific) friend, Ward McBurney. Check it out.
[Update: Ward, tortured artist that he is, is in a constant state of refurbishing his blog and has taken down lots of old poetry. So here it is:
You helped me make my bed decidedly. This
is a bed for a grown-up, you said. You folded
and we spread. You told me not to get up
when you left, but hugged me bending over
me as prone as an infant, and big as a lion.
You were here. You were emphatically present.
I still don’t understand a word of what you say.
I still know you are absolutely trustworthy.
If I don’t keep you posted, it may be because
I think you already know that life is hard, sucks,
can suck. And then there is this bed, standing
right in the way of panic and forlorn. Susan,
You helped me make the bed where I was born
and left me lying there awake like morning.]