We are worriers
And
We are warriors.

And each morning as she slept
I'd take her a tray of poetry
A croissant of commas warmed from the inside out
An ounce of assonance
A cup of freshly squeezed couplets
A bowlful of rhymes
That inside she might find
Our promises of forever
The memories we crafted together:

I’d take her a teapot of
The little things we’d forget
In the busyness of daily life
I’d take her a knife to spread
across the toasts we’d host
To the moments we cherished most
To our victories and our regrets
And every morning as she slept
I’d place a kiss on her head
As I placed beside our bed
A tray of poetry,
The words she so carefully, cordially, candidly
Composed out of me.

In a world dripping with change
You are my constant.

After death;
When all is said and done
the sun must rise
and
Mou̶rning must come.

Somewhere within this body and these bones
I have finally found a home.

Our biggest injustice is thinking we do not have time
When time is all we have.