I'm floating in a stiff Victorian chair,
Gandalf the Grey has just become White--
And frankly, I don't care, I mean that's great for him.
After a quiet walk with my love,
A long, luxurious, shower with some bayberry soap;
This lovely bed and breakfast inn we have all to ourselves,
Biblical knowledge repeated in a such a spectacularly familiar way,
And then together to watch poor Bilbo and Samwise trudge.
These Twenty some-odd years, and all I know is he.
I marvel that my baby toes could tingle like they do.