(for Anne, on our 16th wedding anniversary)
The words, you say, are easy; numbers – no.
And yet your constant true addition makes
Multiply our joys. Your love me takes
To planes and spheres where never words can go.
Though some reckon to grow their purse
By calculating reasoned rates of return,
If never I from you divide, I’ll learn
The mathematics of the universe.
Five thousand, eight hundred and forty-four days.
Do two become one? Or one made from twain?
Two to the two to the two the powered refrain
Make half a billion seconds of love that stays.
Neither words nor figures may equate
The blessed bliss of this, my married state.