There is clumsiness to love.
It doesn’t matter how well
we’ve learned the dance steps
or find pleasure in the music,
the ballroom is made of ice.
In ballet shoes with blades,
there is a risk my partner
and I might slip into a scene
from “The War of the Roses."
We have been married forever.
Oh, I know it is an exaggeration,
but when there are more memories
after the ring than before it,
time is measured by anniversaries.
Romance is a bit different
when the flowers fade.
It is more a bouquet
of prescriptions hoping
one will be a pill to assist with
more bon mots than comic acidic.
Please don’t be fooled that in the graying
and moaning there is no devotion.
Our marriage is a poetry slam
of love sonnets that confuses an audience
because the fourteen lines never rhyme.
©Susie Clevenger 2024
Having a bit of fun at my husband and my expense.
For those who might not get "The War of the Roses" reference
it is a book/movie about how a seemingly perfect marriage
deteriorates into a battle over wealth and possessions.
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