Asking All the Married Men

Tell me of the morning light

That filters through her sleeping face,

The coffee cup she leaves half-full,

The way her scarves possess such grace.

Tell me of the arguments

That end in laughter, end in peace,

The way she knows your silence well,

The storms your touch alone can ease.

Tell me of the sacred things

The shared jokes no one else could know,

The way she hums while folding sheets,

The strength she lends when you feel low.

Tell me of the growing old,

The silver threading through her hair,

The laugh lines deepening year by year,

The comfort found in being there.

Tell me of the fears you've faced,

The times you almost lost your way,

How anchor-strong her love became,

The reasons that you chose to stay.

Tell me, married men, tell true

Was giving up your freedom worth

The quiet joy of building life

With one who makes your soul feel birth?

Their answers echo back as one,

Through decades, cultures, space and time:

"We didn't lose our freedom, friend

We found it when her heart met mine."