Today’s prompt is love poem.

How Love Changes After Half a Century

I love that when I say I like something,
you say, “I’ll buy it for you.”
Not that I actually want it,
but that you’re so generous toward me.

I love the little details that you remember 
about things that happened fifty years ago.
You can’t remember what day it is
(or what chore I asked you to do),
but you know what I wore on our first date.
You recall that I kicked off my shoes 
and tucked my feet up on the bench.
(I couldn’t do that now if I my life depended on it.)

I love that when I reach over to fasten your seat belt,
you say, “Your gray hair is so beautiful.”
When I object that nobody says that to a woman,
you say, “But it looks like silver.”

I love that a day doesn’t go by
that you don’t thank me for being your caretaker.
I feel guilty that I get impatient with you
for the time and attention you require.
Will you forgive me?

©ARHuelsenbeck