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?