Another Class Reunion
The housewife and her classmates have staged a small reunion
to munch and drink but mainly talk—an annual communion
wherein they build a campfire and the drunker that they get
the more that they tell stories they’re afraid that they’ll forget
if they don’t repeat them yearly, so they tell them to their spouses,
who, I must admit, wish they’d remained home in their houses.
Yet, most don’t blame their loved ones for their memories of the past,
although they know they’ll hear them for as long as memories last.
They are ambassadors of patience as they hear each tale again,
about the wild and zany things their spouse did way back when.
I’ll be going back to my class reunion/ town reunion in less than two weeks, but alas, with no spouse in tow. Stretching the truth a bit above. They only occur every 5 years and actually not that much drinking goes on. Poetic license, you know. The photos are, however, from my town and class reunions of the past.