Today is my one year wedding anniversary, which according to tradition is the ‘paper’ anniversary. To honor the occasion, I dedicate this week’s digital paper T.I.L.T. to my loving wife in the form of an old-fashioned poem.

Happy Anno Uno!

Has it really been a year, my dear?
Are you weary of me yet?
I bet some habits of mine do not age well like wine.
Like farting or whining or too much criticizing, never realizing that life’s satisfying enough.
Am I too tough on you?
Too rough with you?
Never get enough of you?
I know I should learn to listen more.
Don’t think I’m bored when I seem adrift.
It’s just my poet’s mind riffing, lost in my own times and rhymes.
Thinking of you, thinking of me, thinking of we.
And when will baby make three?
I love our love life, my loving wife.
And I don’t mean the sex, which has always been exciting, exhilarating, existentializing.
No, I mean love-the-emotional-verb life, where every day as husband and wife we go toe to toe betrothed and dance our romance through the highs and the lows and the whys and the noes and the crying and the laughing…
You know, loving in all its endless forms.
Is this the norm?
Or have we struck gold?
And we will grow happily old together through all sorts of weather to behold more anniversaries?
I’d like to think so.
I’d hope so.
I’d like to think I know so.
Time will tell but for now all is more than well.
So to hell with useless worries about how to live happily every after.
After is never as interesting as happily ever now.
And somehow, Thank God, we got that, you know?
So pop the champagne, break out the kudos, and let’s celebrate Happy Anno Uno.

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