I want to fight with you, my love,

About the brand of coffee we’ll buy,

And about the way you take your shoes off

A little too close to the door.

I want to complain at you for forgetting

Your gym clothes in the car

Until after my laundry is done.

I want to quarrel with you, about whether

The weather calls for a jacket or sweater,

As you head out to walk the dogs,

After reading our morning paper,

And about my delay in calling the doctor,

When we both know I should have done,

Sooner rather than later.

I want to argue with you

At your insistence that I lay down each afternoon.

“I am fine,” I’ll tell you,

“I’m in the middle of something,” I’ll say,

“And I am not an old woman.”

“Yes, you are,” you’ll respond, “and what’s more, you’re mine.”

“Now, come, let’s rest for a while.”

I want to remind you to be gentle with yourself,

I want to look into your eyes until your soul stills,

When I will tell you again

How I love you, and us, and all that is ours.

And then you’ll complain, please, about your failing body,

So I can take your hand and tell you again, how

I will never leave.

I want to ask what you’d like to eat,

And hear you answer honestly.

I want to bring what you crave;

I want to sing what you love;

I want to come when you call;

I want to be what you need.

~Rainn