Each year a marriage gets a little better,
Like a house slowly settling in.
Edges age, smooth out, then lean together;
Voices whisper faintly in the wind.
Even so, fresh flowers can do wonders,
Needed at the windows, at the door.
Years of wear could use a little color,
Embellishing what else needs little more.
All marriages can profit from romance,
Required to turn duty into dance,
Still beautiful, with much more love in store.