'What walking aids do you want'? She asks.
'Only you' he replies reaching for her arm,
the morning walk, love's small rituals.
Seventy years since they took their first walk.
In those days she held his arm as a trophy,
her handsome sailor boy home from the sea.
Over time their love has changed. Evolved into
daily rituals, dependence on each other, and
a dread, never discussed, of one of them dying.
When that time comes, as it must come to us all
so many small rituals undertaken without a word
will be missed. Most of all the morning walk.
The best yet!
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