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THEY USED TO SPOON NOW SHE IS SPOON FED
He holds a sixty-nine year old spoon to her mouth
sixty-nine years wed
sixty-nine years in the same bed
he holds the spoon in front of her gray framed head
after all, sick or not, frail or not
the lady must be fed
and if anyone was going to do the feeding 
it would be the man who, for sixty-nine years she'd been needing
       gardening, growing, weeding
seeding the same garden for sixty years through sun and rain
69 years easing each others pain
one's devotion is only exceeded by the other

father and mother
with two men left behind
and always on their collective mind
the years spent stifling arguments and cultivating love
the many years they had to fix the roof above

his hand shook as the spoon neared her mouth
they'd began in the north but ended up in the south
no cold north wind to battle against, only to lose the fight
no snow to begin in the morning and still be falling past midnight
no white to fight against with an aging back and a contented wife
      and so for 69 years this was their life
and slowly he slips the ground up mush from a sixty-nine year old 
  spoon upon her tongue because she could hardly swallow
with no rule book nor informative guide to follow
each not fearing but expecting death
and so each dawn one would feel for the others breath

so spoonful by spoonful that 69 year old utensil was used for sustenance
he so amorous of her 69 year old divine countenance
and now he no longer recognizes the woman once so glamorous
he had plagues of his own
that he ignored
because a 69 year old bond had been grown 
so alas they would swallow their pride
let their Lord be their guide
the God who had protected them and stifled their temporary tears
and had been doing so for 69 years
   © 2012 © copyright PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~

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