Since the beginning of you and I,
we have bought thirty-three calendars.
I know you like your coffee beige
and that cereal is your feast on
weekday mornings, but on weekends,
you’ll skillfully whip up an omelet.
I’ve never mastered the egg flip.
I know which of your shirts have hung
around for the long haul and if you could
backpack every day, you would. If you
had a choice: flip flops or hiking boots,
the boots would win by a broad margin.
I know our children have the best dad.
You think you’re lucky finding me,
but I am the lucky one…
to wake up each morning with your
pillow beside mine, to witness the sun’s
first peek through the window, to vie
for blankets on a January night.
We are ears and rocks for each other,
having mastered the flavors and textures,
while learning each other’s landscape.
But the depth of our devotion
has not reached its full potential.
There is more closeness to discover
in spaces yet to be revealed.
I feel like a grand prize winner
in this thing called life
where do-overs aren’t magically offered.
You and I became an Us,
and as more lines come into light,
as more grays persist,
even if feet shuffle and bones ache,
there will be more calendars to hang.
Lauren Scott ©
This poem is one of four that I contributed
to the anthology, Poetry Treasures 2: Relationships.
A beautiful collection of poetry
where twelve poets reveal their
most personal moments,
compiled by Kaye Lynne Booth
and Robbie Cheadle.
Thank you for stopping by,
Lauren Scott ❤️