I was I and he was he . . . A ceremony made us "we.”
When in the sight of God and men . . .
We pledged our troth and kissed our kin
And set our sails . . . breathlessly
On the matrimony sea.
My handsome prince . . . He held my hand.
My every wish . . . was his command
Until one day . . . I said, "I think we . . .
Should see my friends . . . More frequently.
He said, so loud . . . It shook the house
That he was man . . . and not a mouse
And furthermore . . . he said we should
See his friends more . . . he said we would.
He said, we would . . . most certainly
I said, we won't . . . We both said "we"
Strange, when we do . . . Or don't agree
One thing is clear . . . We both say "we"
Now that's the secret . . . For love to grow
Through Summer's sun . . . and Winter's snow
Through diaper rash . . . And teething ills
From P.T.A. . . . to college bills
Through three-point circuits . . . And inner-city
And Pastor Parish Relations Committee
Through Conference moving time . . . again
When you’re not one . . . of the bishop's men.
Through covered dishes . . . Well, thick and thin
Love like this . . . will never end
For when we do . . . or don't agree . . .
We still find joy . . . in being '"we".
by Ruth Baird Shaw ><>