Anniversary
Husband and wife sit across from each other,
eyes meeting over that old kitchen table.
No words are spoken.
A girlish smile breaks over the wife’s face,
a grin follows across her husbands.
Faces they each know so well,
a thousand stories could be told.
Memories flood the quiet between them,
going back oh so many years.
Time reeling them both back into youthful days
when a lifetime was stretched before them.
Remembering the first time their eyes met,
the husband could still see that spark in her eyes.
A first date the wife waiting for his arrival,
she remembers being swept off her feet by him
at the doorstep.
Husband and wife take another step down
that lane of memories.
Remembering,
that first kiss the wife can still feel it,
just like it happened yesterday.
Tender when he held her face,
gently in his hands, so sweet was that moment.
She still remembers the words he murmured,
whispering softly.
“I could love you for the rest of my life.”
That first kiss led them to a dance floor.
When they danced their first dance,
holding each other tight in each other’s arms.
It was as if it was only the two of them on that dance floor.
The husband and wife dance down memory lane.
To meet each other’s parents a most important moment.
To know of family and kinship.
The wave of memories takes them to when,
the husband was before her on one knee.
So humbled was he,
asking the wife to build a life with him.
The wife had cried in delighted surprise.
She could remember her joy, at the promise of a life together.
He still brought joy to her life.
Traveling down memory lane together,
to the alter they went.
Where each pledged solemn vows, in earnest to each other.
To last them all the days of their life.
The husband and wife could hear the ring of their children’s laughter,
greeting them with children of their own.
This anniversary is one of many.
That first look.
The first kiss.
A first dance.
First promises.
The first I love you is where it began, all those years ago.
Where it has led to is the husband and wife sitting at that old kitchen table,
gazing into each other’s faces.
Not a word needs to be spoken.
GypsyofEssence
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