In Praise of My Wife

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I liken you to lichen; me – an average piece of rock on any given forest floor.
You have grown slowly over my ragged places.
Not hiding them – making them bloom
A kind of interplanetary beauty.

Or perhaps we are, not Coleridge’s, but Attenborough’s albatross.
A wild, constant mating pair.

Or I dunno, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?
Help me out here.

The point is you defy metaphor.
For that and everything, I love you.