My husband isn’t old yet,
Although his years betray him.
He rides his mower to maintain a tan
To contrast with his baby blue eyes.
He lifts weights, digs post holes and follows an untamed tiller
So that his biceps ripple.
His quads hold his mighty frame without challenge.
He’s a man’s man.
He can hear the tiniest whisper
With his bionic ears.
No holding him back from adventures and missions
As he seeks his path.
My husband isn’t old yet but I am grateful for his years.
He strokes and soothes me with tenderness
Born of maturity and experience.
I’m his lady.
I love you oodles and wish you many birthdays before you are old.
Sandra (7/15/09)
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