Written by:

Zerayn D.

In January, we repair and reset,
you made that declaration—it’s you and me, we are a duet.

In February, I never count the value of Valentine’s Day,
but a present arrived out of nowhere, drifting my way;
I wondered quietly—why, and who could it be?

March, I watched the orchestra, mesmerizing and bright,
not knowing you were also there, sharing the night.

April, we got a year older, time turning its page;
suddenly, you laughed and forgot your age.

May, thanks for that cup of cold drip coffee—
the day you learned about my anxiety.
You said you’d work on it, gently, patiently.

June, I didn’t go wasted, no blurry cheer,
but we marked the month with a photo—our moment of the year.
You were trying to be cute, and it drew me near.

July, I went to the beach, wrote your name in the sand,
bought you something simple, made with my hands.

August, we are back, and emotions ran true;
you came to me for a hug—you needed it too.
It was then I found out you lied about your age…
but somehow, it made me smile at this charming little page.

September, another work year began, a new theme;
you changed your wardrobe and added more green; my favorite color.

October, I tried to run away from you,
to hide the storm haunting me through and through—
but time spoke softly, and you stayed, you knew.
You saw my vulnerability, yet you held my hand,
and never left me alone in that shifting sand.

November, we ride along, moving side by side;
I sat next to you in all meals, in comfort and pride.
We danced, you got intoxicated—your billiard skills on display;
you looked arrogant, but cute in your way,
slowly unraveling your personal world day by day.

It’s December, and I recount them all with cheer.
What a memorable year!