Love Poem By Melissa Balmain
The afternoon we left our first apartment,
We scrubbed it down from ceiling to parquet.
Who knew the place could smell like lemon muffins?
It suddenly seemed nuts to move away.
(I've lived in seven apartments in my life. I was always happy to leave them behind in exchange for a house, especially those homes in the country.)
The morning someone bought our station wagon,
it gleamed with wax and every piston purred.
The car looked like a centerfold in Hot Rod!
Too late, we saw that selling was absurd.
(So many times I've wished that I had kept my little Ford Escort station wagon!)
And then there was the freshly tuned piano
We passed along to neighbors with a wince.
We told ourselves we'd find one even better;
instead we've missed its timbre ever since.
(I never had a piano but I do regret not keeping my collection of vinyl records.)
So if, God help us, we are ever tempted
to ditch our marriage when it's lost its glow,
let's give the thing our finest spit and polish--
and, having learned our lessen, not let it go.
(Long marriages may lose some of their glow - but take on a warm patina.)
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