In the quiet of their days, they bicker and they spar,
Each word a sharpened jest, a playful, tiny scar.
Through life's tumultuous waves, they found a steady shore,
In the laughter and the grumbles, they always wanted more.
Their hearts are toughened leather, worn by time's embrace,
Each wrinkle tells a story, etched upon their face.
With every barb and quip, their bond is further sealed,
In the battlefield of love, their wounds are gently healed.
In the warmth of their old home, their voices echo loud,
A symphony of sarcasm, that makes them both so proud.
Through years of ups and downs, they've come to understand,
The beauty in the battles, and the strength in holding hands.
So let them banter on, in their curmudgeon way,
For in their gruff exchanges, love finds a place to stay.
Through jest and jest alike, their hearts remain entwined,
In the curmudgeon's dance, true love is redefined.
In the rough banter of their exchanges, lies a testament to a bond weathered by time, where shared experiences and mutual understanding have sculpted a love stronger than steel.
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