16

Faster than quicksand we're wrapped up

tighter than barbed wire

Playing around and testing each

other's boundaries

We are still just little kids

When we're 80 I'll still poke you just

to make you flinch and you'll still carry

me to the car when my feet hurt

I'll always lay my head on your chest

because the sound of your heartbeat gives me butterflies

and you'll always, always race me to open my door

We'll keep each other 16 until we are the dirt we walk on

Maybe even then

Reviews

[Christine]

Love this poem, my husband still races me to the car. I have to cheat if I want to win.