Pop ya hip

Or: How I’ll cat-call you after 40 years of marriage

Hey! You’re intoxicating as sherry.
Original like Werther’s sweets.
Close to me as a pacemaker.
You make me complete. 

I wanna get old with you, baby.
Seriously old.
I wanna hear young’uns whisper,
Seriously, how’d they get so old?

I wanna love you in nothin’ but wrinkles.
Yeah, your Sunday Best.
I wanna see those laughin’ eyes crinkle.
‘Nough crows to fill a nest.

I wanna suck ya teeth out.
I wanna rub what ails.
Which is to say – everythin’, baby!
A line that never fails. I forget:

Did I already say you make me complete?
Did I follow up with every lap of the sun?
It’s just, when your shuffle ‘cross my patio,
Sentences come undone. Let’s do over – 

You make me complete
Every lap of the sun.
You’re who I breathe for, baby.
We’ve only just begun.

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