When first we met
You were a mere forty-seven,
Raising two boys
At eleven-eleven.
You thought you had reached
The end of your game;
Not predisposed
To meet your next flame.
Yet by the time
You reached forty-eight
We’d done “Gift of Vision”,
Set our wedding date,
Repaired the roof
(To keep out the pigeons)
And started a process
To change my religion.
At age forty-nine
Little time for renewel
Each day sending off
Three boys to school.
Come to age fifty
What happened then?
If I could remember
I’d be young again
But it isn’t our memories
Starting to fail
With more years to archive
Deluge of detail.
But here I must stop
For now we are late
Happy fifty-seventh
Heaven will wait.
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