We celebrated the 40th minute
of our anniversary,
and lest we caught on fire,
I promised my last tear,
and Mary promised her last smile.
But there’s no such thing
as a last tear or a last smile,
and an anniversary every 40 minutes
becomes, through the years,
a huge celebration.
Tears keep coming,
smiles keep smiling,
such that we cry laughing now,
and laugh crying,
and wisdom grows by being friends
and lovers,
and wondering how love endures,
enduring so much,
that I think it’s the place
where love’s been
and where love goes,
the children,
by whose days
we measure ours.
A kitchen ringing with dishes,
fears stared down together,
creating places for new worlds,
pushing back the forces of oblivion,
and telling those
who do not believe in love,
this is how it happens.
Keeping faith in your romance,
putting it at the center
of everything you do,
no matter what.