Anniversary Poem

Today marks my 27th wedding anniversary.  At least that's what Becky told me last night.  I believe her.  It seems like 27 years.  Seems a lot longer actually.  More like 30.  But after 25, why continue counting?  You just sort of walk around in a stupor.  You begin to forget anniversaries as easily as birthdays.  You weep more easily.  There is more to weep about. 

In spite of the stupor, however, I've written this anniversary poem.  It may not be as romantic as the verse I'll share tonight, but it goes places.

Finish Line

Some might say we're crazy, or odd, or confused,
While others might say we're a pair,
But the fact still remains that our engines are used
And our parts are showing some wear.

My chassis is cracked and your wiring is frayed
And our pistons aren't firing complete
But once we get oiled and all repairs made
Our cylinders can still create heat.

We may not move fast and we bring up the rear
While others slip by for the win,
But you've not hit the wall on any lap, dear,
And I'm ready to race you again.

We'll never bask in the winners' wreaths
Or hear the cheers from the peaks
But few expect much from two antiques
Who are held together with grease.

Years from now when the names are new
And the Hall of Fame gets the glitz
I'll still be rounding the track with you
And we'll finish our race in the pits.