I see you through dimmed eyes.
You hear me through deaf ears.
And sometimes- you take photos
to show me the world I would otherwise miss.
And sometimes- I teach you the signs
I love you
For when the hour is late, and pillow talk is hard.
Also
Bullshit
Asshole
and
Fuck
For instances that we might want to be more colorful.
Or maybe just to give our waitress a laugh.
(...and it seems to work...it is amazing what they will let you get away with when you’re old...)
You knew me when I wore a size five, and could still walk.
I knew you when your beard and hair were black.
Now we have children-and grandchildren and great grands.
Appointments, schedules and lives that make Our Time
something we must steal.
Carve out.
Plan.
And stealing the time
makes it all the sweeter somehow.
Like taking a break from Life
and all that entails.
Just Us.
Besides
We both have ghosts
in our beds.
And 4 is a crowd.
You love me Muchly.
And I love you so Bigly.
We may have not been each other’s
FIRST LOVE
but we may well be
THE LAST
And that is somehow PERFECT.
You touch me with gentle hands.
I kiss you with tender lips.
Everything slower now.
More deliberate.
More sensual.
Sexy.
Despite the Stiffening Joints
Graying Hair
or Leg Cramps.
We’re as good ONCE
(...as the country and western singer croons…)
as we ever were.
And sometimes even Twice.
Seconds.
Neither of us
were looking.
Neither of us
ever expected.
But here we are-
just the same.
Love in the Age of Arthritis.
