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My Dream

Rising, slowly at first light

Emerging from the bedclothes

Back, knees and feet

Snap, crackle and pop

Just like the milk-soaked kernels

That melt in our mouths

Today is special

For sentimental lovers

Marked on the calendar

A red sharpie-drawn heart

We linger the day away

Rushing is for the young

At 4:45, we head out the door

By the window, our table, reserved

Too far from the washroom

Still, we like to watch the street

As we eat our soup

Passing the bowl back and forth

You take two spoonfuls to my one

It finally takes longer than ten minutes

For us to finish a meal

We then walk home

Just an old married couple

Without haste or hurry

Aged but ageless

Fond and forgetful

Dawdling towards death

We will get there

When we get there...

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