By my dad
Date: 3 June 1998
anniversary
20 years ago in the olden days
the kids would say
We thought we loved each other
but we the people we were then,
couldn't have begun to love
because we had never felt
the babies kick, woke to crying in the night,
to tired to do anything but be
or even heard of little girl strawberry kisses.
We had never broken bread,
shared dreams, changed dreams in midstream,
or done any of the hundreds of things true lovers do.
Now the people we are now
do know these things and more.
But, wouldn't it be surprising
if 20 years from now
I was to come to you one evening and say,
20 years ago in the olden days,
We thought we loved each other...
UPDATE: this seems to be be an homage/remembery of this Marie Tillman poem:
Twenty years ago
(in covered-wagon days, the kids would say)
we knew we love each other.
But now . . . Lord knows how many miles
and prayers
and board feet of lumber
and band-aids
and lollipops later . . .
we live and love and know that they
(the people we were then)
hadn't yet begun to love.
For they had not known Christmases
or felt the baby kick
or sat at night too tired to talk or think
or do a thing but be
and feel glad that they could be together.
They hadn't been apart
or waked to crying in the night
or shared broken bread
fevers
gallons of paint
or Easters (some people think Easter
comes once a year and
can be found on a calendar).
They hadn't paid bills or put away groceries,
changed dreams in midstream,
or even heard of little-girl strawberry kisses.
But we (the people we are now)
do know all these and more.
And it wouldn't be surprising if
twenty years from now
I should write to you at evening time and say,
"Twenty years ago
we knew that we loved each other,
but not we live and love
and know that they . . ."
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