It’s about who does the laundry,
It’s about whether you will wait for me to finish before you
leave the table,
It’s about will you lift me when I fall,
Will you always come when I call?
It’s not about flowers really,
Not even chocolate,
It’s will you nurse me when am ill,
Will I be there when you are down?
Will I bear you when you are mad?
It’s not about poetry,
Neither is it an ode,
It’s not cute and flowery,
Rather worn but gently true.
It’s not whether you will ply me with sweet words,
But rather will you keep your word,
It’s not whether you will buy me the season’s flowers,
But will you be true through the seasons of our lives…
Its not how well we began…
But whether we shall finish well
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