Anniversary

You stumble in...
through the kitchen door –
arms full of cabbages,
broad beans, and marrows,
you’d grown from seed
in our own, little plot...

someone who is so many
things rolled into one –
a lover, a daddy,
a friend, honey-bun,
plumber and electrician.

And now, in that one,
split second you look
at me, and that look
says it all...Who needs
a giant bunch of roses?

Except...they’re roses
I see, anyway, and I bloom
deep in the heart of me –
lucky as I am to have you...
all of this...

after forty-four years
of juggling a career
with a family...of
vacuuming, of laundry,
of household bills,
spent cigarettes...
of pain and of joy.

Yet now is ‘our-time’ –
only an ordinary day...
me, standing by the sink
and then you drop
the whole lot; every last
baby-carrot on the floor.

I split my sides. On all fours,
you glance up at me, daggers...
and then you laugh,
and I want to bottle it,
like the olives
from our olive tree.
Inside, I die, just a bit,
but it feels, so fine.