Three Years Short Of Fifty

The third of the second month
one  to remember
at least for me
the day when I shared
the yoke of marriage.

Been doing so 
for not one year
 but for forty seven years 
tirelessly  but with a diligence,
going forth and back steadily
with and without complaints.

Major part of my years
distributed between 
toil and foil, expected
and unexpected.
negatives surpass
almost every time.

Negotiating, moving
 escaping, caught in between
 all happen with a striking force
I look back, while my lips quiver
 eyes turn moist, heart feels heavy.
as the forty seventh year dawns.