A couple of weeks ago, I offered a free, personalized Valentine’s Day sonnet for the first person who could “pique my interest.” My Georgian buddy John Cochrane responded with this intriguing premise:
Valentine’s Day poem from man to wife. At the stage of life when bodily frailities really start setting their teeth in, kids are pulling away, individuating, will be out of the house sooner now rather than later. Both parents’ circle of old friends dispersing in a widening gyre, no new friends being made to take those relationship slots. Money manageable but always tight. Still very much in love with each other, but a dwindling number of life’s major moments to look forward to. Hope this snags somewhere, even if only on your pants cuffs like a stickleburr.