The years have left most favorably their mark,
And altered only for the best your charms.
The warming still is there within your arms,
Now from a fire that started as a spark.
The boy once loath to just but plight his troth
Is now both faithful husband and a sire.
You put the cans out, lay the evening fire.
Your tamed free hand now feeds the baby broth.
O' husband, do not rue the years that bind
Your past and present closely up with mine.
It could be worse, and better still we'll find
The fruit that lingers yet upon the vine.
Since first you sent that heart your fate's been signed,
That day I chose for good my Valentine!