We were supposed to get matching tattoos

for our wedding.

Farm animals

or owls

who are not what they seem.

Instead

we waited

because we were never good at making decisions.

You left them all to me.

And while I know I can come up

with the PERFECT PLAN,

I really wish I was an elf

because it might take me a quarter of a century,

and my hair will be all white by then.

So now you have a tattoo that matches hers.

Not really, 

yours is a silly butterfly

and hers an even sillier hot-dog,

but still.