Plahm structures this poem as a series of questions and answers that function like a dialogue between doubt and devotion. Each couplet names a reality of aging—sagging curves, infirmities, forgetfulness, tremors, inconsistencies—and immediately reframes it through the lens of enduring love. The responses range from tenderly philosophical (“Your laughter lines? / Tell stories of happiness we’ve shared”) to playfully defiant (“What about the tremors? / I’ll have the kid cut the anniversary cake. / While you and I / Cut a rug”). This tonal agility is the poem’s signature: it refuses to treat aging as either tragic or trivial, finding instead a middle register where humor and genuine feeling coexist. The poem’s emotional acceleration is carefully engineered. The early couplets are wry and observational; the middle section deepens into sensory intimacy (“Can I taste and smell you? / You, make me real”); the climax erupts into unguarded declaration (“I love you! / Yes, Yes, Yes! / Loved, Loved. Love!”). The repeated question “What are you doing tonight?” with its “devilish thoughts” carries a playful eroticism that insists desire doesn’t expire with youth. The closing line—”No, I welcome life. With you”—is the poem’s quiet thesis: aging is not something to endure but to welcome, provided you have the right companion.

A buoyant, structurally inventive love poem that turns the Q&A format into genuine emotional architecture. The question-and-answer structure gives the poem a conversational immediacy that most aging poems lack—it reads like two people actually talking over dinner, teasing each other about tremors while holding hands under the table. The tonal range is impressive: within a few lines Plahm moves from self-deprecating humor (having the kid cut the cake) to sensory intimacy (taste, smell, touch) to ecstatic declaration, and none of these shifts feel forced. The “cut a rug” line following the tremors is a perfect marriage of humor and defiance—we may shake, but we’ll dance anyway. The sensory escalation in the second half (hold, touch, taste, smell) grounds the abstract concept of love in the body, insisting that physical presence matters more, not less, as the body ages. The triple “Yes” and triple “Love” create a rhythmic climax that earns its exclamation points. Where the poem has minor weakness is in a few couplets that state their answers too directly (“Must be the wrinkles,” “Must be the lovely curves”) without the imagistic surprise of the stronger pairs. But the overall effect is irresistible—a poem that makes growing old together sound not just bearable but thrilling. The companion piece to “Wrinkles?” but richer and more emotionally complex.