When I was younger
and wanted to say,
“I love you”. It was
a grand old display.
Material gifts
were often the norm,
futile attempts to
prevent the forlorn.
After our marriage,
things started to change.
The things you wanted
would seem oh so strange.
Instead of candy,
jewels or flowers,
you’d want me to do
things that’d take me hours.
Doing the dishes
or cleaning the floors
now magically throw
open your love’s doors.
I don’t understand,
at times don’t believe:
“Surely love’s hiding
something up its sleeve!”
But alas, it’s not.
The symbol for love
is now a vacuum,
instead of a dove.
