We forgot our anniversary.
No card this year, nor gift.
Is this what happens after seven years?
But, we’re not bothered, cross or miffed.
A text has just reminded us,
as we sit here in our slippers,
that seven years ago we walked down the aisle,
and said our vows to the eccentric vicar.
A special day we shared with friends,
family and each other.
Full of dancing, joy and alcohol!
The day I became a mother.
Fast forward to the present day,
it’s just me, him and the dog.
He’s outside, he’s mowing the lawn
and I’m cleaning the downstairs bog!
It’s slipped our minds what day it is,
but surely it’s not indifference.
It just that after only seven years
we’ve clean forgotten the date’s significance.
Our romance, it’s not dead at all,
it’s just we’re absent minded.
I mean, later on we might even snog
and I’ll praise the gardening that he did.
Seven years, that’s wool or copper.
I’ll get him a jumper in the sale.
He can get me a copper pan.
See, our marriage has not gone stale!
Plus, I’m sure that if it wasn’t Sunday
the postman would’ve delivered
a horde of anniversary cards
and bouquets so beautiful I would’ve quivered.
The truth is, it’s been quite hard work.
There’s been a lot of emotional investment.
We’ve been round the block and back again
to our relationship this is testament.
We should celebrate that we’ve made it here
at times I thought we couldn’t.
But we’ve managed it. Love can prevail
despite worrying we weren’t strong enough and it wouldn’t.
So perhaps this next year of marital bliss
won’t be quite so jolly exhausting.
And in seven more years, that’ll be Ivory,
we’ll be even older, that’s quite daunting.
If he sticks with me, then I’ll stick with him,
even when life’s challenges are hard.
We’re not perfect, but we are soul mates.
Perhaps next year we’ll bother to exchange a card!