First comes love...

More likely than not

we would be celebrating

over thirty years of marriage

surrounded by some

half a dozen children

perhaps even a grandchild or two

him smiling, satsfied,

all his dreams fulfilled,

a possessive arm

holding me close, tightly

me smiling, a brittle smile

perhaps

wondering who I might have been

what I might have done

if only

I had believed I was worth loving

that someone who dreamed

with me

might one day

love me

as I was

not bend me

to his desired shape;

probably I'd be

sunk in the morass of a

midlife crisis

trying not to regret

all the places I'd never visited,

lived, loved

the things I'd never read

studied, researched, learned

taught

firmly sweeping regret to the side

as I embraced

the only love

I'd ever known.