No comparison

She’s his wobbly kayak,
his cloudy day – one that rains
and he sings in anyway.

He’s scalding morning coffee,
baking powder rising in her
old muffin recipe.

She’s the bed and he’s the
bounce of a rutted mattress.
Tossing sleep. So many sheep.

He’s the daily dream,
a leaning check-mark on her list,
her keyboard clicking smartphone

– her text. subtext.
hello. goodbye. let’s.

(Written for my enduring husband on the occasion of our 36th wedding anniversary.)

fadedroses

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8 thoughts on “No comparison

"The river flows both ways." (Margaret Laurence)

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