To my wife, after twenty four years together

I see us older, but stronger.
We are heavier, of course;
Does anyone get more shallow
As they go?
But the coincidence
Of our common thoughts,
As we walked through the streets
Of the French Quarter in New Orleans,
Although we had been
Separated from each other
For six years, the time and space:
Two thousand miles?
Different thoughts and experiences,
Just aged the mix nobly
Fermented the youthly pleasures
Like good wine or cheese.

And now, twenty four years later
Is there any doubt we are better together
That's twice a twelve year old Scotch
Or a good French cognac.
There you have us:
Single malt Scotch and French cognac
Sitting on the dusty shelf together
Marrying the flavors through the years
To something individual and spectacular
Depth and gravity,
Valuable.