“Enjoy every minute”
Says the twinkle of their eye in a sea of calm
They’ve been here
The storm has long passed.
But they’ve been here before.
So says the lines on their face.
And the body that’s been and birthed and bore.
They read from pages past.
From tiny chapters of nostalgia.
I listen smiling.
With ringing ears from echoed woes.
As they round and round the garden “look at those tiny toes”.
Time to do the dishes, or washing
Or some quick task I think.
Phrases must come so east
Once the love story’s been written.
Maybe it’s different when you’re in it.
Can you still be in love
And not enjoy every minute?