In you came, with the summer.
With your Beatles and your books and your clubs. Your romantic poetry, baseball-loving, barbecue-cooking self.
Sat on the Shakespearean beach and drank in the moonlight. We sipped the Divine cure for loneliness and heartache and have tended to the seedlings of our dreams.
Kissed our soles and souls then hand-in-hand we’ve made each other laugh, making a life and a marriage, together.
Years of “I Love Yous,”
In all, 21.