32 Years
December 30, 2021
Thirty-two years . . .
On a bad day that might seem
Like a lot of crosses to bear,
But I can't see how any other day
Along the way still leads me here,
To a life of aches that bark,
And scars that stand
In stark contrast to the flawless lives
We assume others had.
A butterfly moves,
We are sucked in the current,
Forming a circle to protect
What one loves from dangers
So apparent and so undeterred.
At any time, if we had pushed
And prodded to take a different road,
I can't see the present we receive
Or the future still untold.
It's a bit of a paradox,
This anniversary celebration,
Thirty-two years now more orthodox
Than progressive in a time
Of instant gratification:
I stand and lie beside you,
Fight the tendencies to pick
Apart the things you do
That naturally come from
Thirty-two years of co-dependency.
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