Mr. G got up to lie,
Walking, forgetting by and by.
“Fie!” cried his self in the mirror.
“Let go, let go, let go until you’re clearer.”
Mrs. G couldn’t wait to shoot,
She sparred like some dry dry fruit.
“Damn!” mumbled she all the while.
“Don’t know what to do with all this bile.”
So carried things for years and years,
They never got rid of the underlying fears.
She wanted him to show love, you see.
He tried to get her to stop spreading debris.
Never once did they remember to stop and look.
They might even take back all they’d forsook.
Simple it was, their salvation.
All it took was forsaking negation.
Then one day she saw it, the magic.
Pitter patter, patter pitter magic.
It rained heavily on her, the alchemy.
She ran to the ever-waiting balcony.
“YooHoo!” cried she out loud.
He responded not a little less proud.
“”YooHoo, I have a solution,” said he.
“So have I, my dear,” bellowed she.
Together they ran, she down, he up.
Together they met nestling the brimming cup.
It was in the old living room they sat.
Hand in hand, not once thinking of combat.
“I could see more of you,” she said.
“I could help you clean better,” he gently led.
“You say less, but do more,” encouraged she.
“You love so, and fill me up,” whispered he.
Now they watch TV together.
Gardening days, too, are so much better.
He runs errands, unseething.
She hums gently a merry greeting.
Their cat is suddenly enlivened.
Also sways the old tree, wizened.
Love could be missing sometimes.
But never do they cross fine lines.
The missing key was simple, they knew.
You must meet I, and I you.
Magics happen of all kinds.
As three simple words “I do care” chime chimes.
This one’s for you, Momina.