We’ve walked a life together before, me and you.
You planned our first date, meticulously.
You were nervous opening that door.
When we laughed, danced, connected, so early in this life’s journey.
You reached for my hand and love started there.
We’ve walked a sweet journey before, me and you.
When you decided that love was enough for the rest of your life.
You secretly cried as you watched me blossom under your gaze.
I was bursting with happiness to be yours, that we had forever to share.
We walked together towards your car, from the arrivals lounge, my body ripe with our child, together,
People cheered on our love.
We’ve walked a lot of ground, for so long, me and you.
As they wheeled me down the hall from passing out in the shower after she finally came, raw, stitched, bleeding and hurting,
And you wheeled our first baby to the car, to the first home we’d share as a family of three.
Her chest listing up and down, trusting in our love she’d be secure.
We’ve walked some journeys before, me and you.
Me raw and bleeding again. You bursting with happiness again.
You held him tightly, as we became a family of four.
He was born into perfection, a special partnership, a home, a family.
We walked that path again. A longer one this time. Another special girl arrived. You were bored by now. 34 hours was too long. She made us complete.
When we thought we were, just you and I.
We’ve walked a journey before, me and you.
So you’ll be prepared when we walk our last.
I carry the weight of our moments and memories and journeys walked before.
When it was declared no more moments or memories, just assets black and white.
I’m heavier walking out, you’re lighter walking away. To her.
She waited with champagne. Everything you both planned finally came true.
And, one day, if you’re brave enough, you’ll tell her, you’ve walked that journey before.