Rare love

What they had was rare,
rarer than rain in the middle,
of a drought.

You could see it in their eyes
when they smiled as they heard
their name.

He was the jack of all traits,
a veteran, a jeweler, a cook,
all for his Queen.

She bared his children,
while they lived in the canyon,
of Southern California.

When his heart failed,
she was never the same,
without her King.

She held on a bit longer,
sharing her life with mine,
until her body gave in.

Their love captured in porcelain,
now hangs above my window,
what they had was rare.

This poem is about my step-grandparents love. Their wedding anniversary is on my birthday. I had them on my mind as I came into the office today and decided to write this piece. I hope you enjoyed this poem. 

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