Cast Iron

Love alloyed your heart to mine,
and since we yearned to stay that way
were poured in that prosaic mold
to have and hold.

Now that ten years have filled and emptied, 

heated, cooled us, 

menaced us with dust and rust,

still we will see the sheen awake

in seasoned iron by the flame 

of daily use,

and that cleaving elemental bond,

no longer new,

still keeps us true in rest and trust. 

From whatever comes our way,
as the days we dwell unfold,

let us make new feasts always,

and have and hold.