Fifteen

So, how old was I again when I married you?

I was thirty; You were thirty-three.

My mother said I couldn’t marr-y.

We were broke; we couldn’t elope.

I was buried  in tons of ex-pec-ta-tions;

But I was bent on breaking all con-ven-tions,

Not a single soul knew but two,

How we conspired when I married you.

 

We were married,

but nobody knew;

Not until my belly grew.

Scandal of the ages!

My mother’s heart broke.

The dad who’s always silent,

Finally spoke.

We were found out, everyone knew.

How we conspired when I married you.

 

How could this be real?

How could this be right?

Did they say  you were average

And I was very “bright”?

It was either “boo” or “bawl”;

Will there be an out somehow?

Could- we –ever-fix –this- mess?

How we conspired when we married us?

 

15 years and a 13-year-old later,

It is time that we divulge this matter.

We are gray-haired, older and  wiser

We now admit to being lie- ers

We broke their hearts

We failed the expectation,

But God planned out this 15-year redemption.

God makes beauty out of our messes.

I, your wife, could only sing your praises.

You are beautiful, loving,  and generous

If only they knew, they’d be incredulous

Of all things that you can do

with all the gifts that  God gave you.

Just today you were chef  and hairdress-er

On other days, you are this, that and oth-er.

My precious husband, my ex-co-conspira-ter

You are loved by me for-e-ver.

15 years, it’s been extra-ordi-na-ry

Happy “the- wedding- that- never- was” anniver-sa-ry!

(And for tomorrow, my baby, my hon-ey,

Could you, once  again make my hair curl-ey?)