Maybe it’s simple

You’ll cover my grays in the kitchen sink 
and interrupt
my best story (they haven’t heard it four times...have they?)
I don’t want bitter apologies, only a coffee 
with lots of milk and sugar
 waiting on the kitchen table.

I’ll trim the hair you can’t reach at the back of your neck
when you’re being too stubborn to get a real haircut.
And I’ll drive you home from our anniversary party 
when you’ve had too many aperitifs
 and you think everyone 
needs a massage.

But for now we’ll stop here
and you’ll turn up car the radio
 and throw open all the doors.
And we will waltz through the weeds,
 kicking up bursts of fluff in the afternoon sun.

© Rachel Fernandes