Jealousy does not fill me,
yet joy certainly doesn’t either.
They are ravishing munchkins,
dressed in black tuxedo and white gown.
or any photographs for that matter,
paint one million-and-one stories…
toasts, reunions, first dances, and more.
these children I do recall…
the boy whose house I slept in once a December,
the girl who once made a convincing Tiny Tim…
they are not the faces of a man and a woman
with bands around their ring fingers.
These children that I once knew
in their dress shorts and plaid skirts
have taken on the “c” word.
In the days where youth feels fresh enough,
at the dawn where fire is in the lot of us,
boy and girl commit to the title of man and wife.
Just what am I committed to?