Cereal monogamy

On the front porch
Laughing and crying all at once
She has no idea the vodka belongs on the shelf
Orange juice beside the milk

It is the same front porch
That whispered baseball calls
To my bedroom window
As I peered down enticed

In time, now stumbling forward
Often infused by the same mixture
I recall her laughter was not quite right
And mine often sounds the same

From the front porch I forgive
As any good lesson I read
And now in her face reflected
The moment that I returned




p.s. in the never-ending battle to match wits.