**(By Your Husband, Who Tried) **

Roses are red,

but so is the warning light in my truck when I don’t check the oil.

You tell me to check it.

I don’t.

You love me anyway.

That’s love, right?

You’re like… a good lawn mower.

Dependable. Strong.

Gets the job done but also doesn’t yell when I forget to do the trimming.

Okay, sometimes you yell. But like, in a cute way.

You’re the touchdown in my otherwise fumbled life.

The halftime nachos when everything else is just salad.

The remote I never lose.

(Okay, that one’s pushing it. I always lose the remote.)

But you get the point.

I tried a metaphor.

Then I googled what a metaphor is.

Still not totally sure.

But I’m giving it a go, like when you made me take that yoga class

and I pulled something I didn’t know I had.

You make the hard days softer.

You make me want to try stuff like this, even if I suck at it.

You’re better than pizza.

There. I said it.

And even though I don’t get poems

and this one probably made you cringe,

I love you in a way that’s quiet but certain,

like the sunrise I always miss but know is there.