Thirty-fifth Anniversary

You tell this part of you that you’re just too tired,
The one who conjures moonlit walks,
Tender kisses,
A blanket spread across the sand
Sun warmed bodies passionately entwined.

You remind the niggling sense of
Pressure, there in the center of your chest,
Of companionship,
Restful couch time,
Watching romance on the television screen,
The way you hold each others' hands.

Perhaps you try to hearten this fearful one
who tangos in your heart at night:
You say that marriage,
(Contrary to the belief of some)
Is not a Holy Sepulcher.

Thirty-five years is, after all, a long time, you say,
Sparks can’t sustain themselves forever.

But there are the crocuses
Warming each other in purple clusters
At the edge of the little garden by your front gate,
And those two robins, persistently foraging in the tall lawn grass,
Battling each other for the earthworm,
And sometimes...you wonder.