Each day she rises early
puts on her yoga outfit
and bikes to the community gym.

I don’t see her
for another two hours.

When she returns home we have
breakfast together. I prepare
cereal for her, bacon and eggs for me.

Both of us look younger
than we are, although I
do not dye my hair.

I silently calculate the
number of years we each have left together,
knowing she’ll outlive me by several.

Only the good die young?
I think not.