Our Odds Are In Our Favor
Two and a half years ago today,
I pledged my life to you.
Back then, it was us – just you and me –
One life made out of two.
But now, it’s you plus me equals three.
There’s more than one proverb
About groups of people numbered so;
It is an odd number.
“Three’s company,” I have often heard.
It was more than a show.
To be the odd man or woman out
Is cold as Winter’s snow.
“There are three kinds of lies,” said Mark Twain:
Lies, damned lies, statistics.
Stats lead to misled conclusions or
But let’s look purely at the numbers,
To see what may be found.
Forty percent of kids born to two,
Will soon find one around.
With such a broad conclusion stated
From those numbers gathered,
Now that Corban’s here, it might seem hard
To prevail enamored.
But pollsters may not account for things
That matter most of all,
Like, “was there true affection present?”
“Was it just sexual?”
What they also cannot see or feel
Is the true affection
Centered deep and fast within my core,
Fueling my heart’s passion.
When I’m outnumbered and wish to quit,
You’re the one God uses
To lift me up, to calm my spirit,
To count what the use is.
You’re the one my heart counts most treasured.
You’re the wife of my youth;
In you, my fountain is truly blessed,
And I’m taught of love’s truth.
I’m intoxicated by your love –
Always enchanted more.
To love you dear and to hold you close
Is my life’s blessed chore.
I don’t love you because I have to,
As if this chore’s to toil.
You are the greatest hobby I have;
Other interests you foil.
So, though some numbers may count us doomed,
I demand a recount.
Since we have gone from two- to threesome,
We shall surely surmount.
Though a man alone may be o’ercome,
And two will firm withstand,
A threefold cord is not soon broken
Within the Master’s hand.
I’ll always love and esteem you most
Even beyond our gift.
Corban, being sacrificed to God,
Can’t e’en cause a small rift.
I will count our company of three
As something to savor.
After carefully looking at our odds,
They are in our favor.