Hand in Glove

It could be said my mother is reserved.
It could be said my father is quite weird.
A passing stranger might be quite unnerved
to learn they’ve been together fifty years.

They’d think that he’s a kook and she’s his cook,
that Stockholm Syndrome may well have set in
but I’d suggest they take another look,
to understand what’s really happening.

It is the simplest tale that humans tell:
Two people who have aged in ageless love.
Love’s not some alchemy nor magic spell.
It’s simply five decades lived hand in glove.

Two vines now grow as one enduring knot.
All anybody wants is what they’ve got.