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...