Twenty Six Years Ago

26 Years Ago . . .

. . . romance was free,
was easy as can be,
yet with no certainty
that you could be you,
and I could be me.

The age of twenty-six
seemed so full of conflicts.

Then the time man ticked,
and as we did predict,
the stephanies we contradict
as you were you and I was me—
we continually clicked.

You turned me from doing
to being and renewing . . .

And thus this path, this dance,
is not just happenstance,
for we may not freely romance,
but I’m still me and you you,
and I still jump,
when I catch your glance.