This Time

This time,
I’ll let it go.
I’ll remember you
made me lasagna
and rubbed my back
and brought me white daisies
after my trip.

This time,
I’ll forget.
Because you made that
silly face with the crooked
grin and rolling eyes.

I’ll ignore it
and pay attention
instead
to the way you smile
when you come in the room
and find me there,
and offer to wash my back,
and lift things that you
pretend are too heavy for me.

This time,
we’ll go on
and nothing will ever be said.
Because I know what
you meant when you
told me you had
been waiting for me
for decades.

This time,
I’ll forgive
because
it’s just an anniversary
after all
and maybe
that’s gift enough.

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