grow old with me.
and we’ll have a lifetime memory.
grow old together…
we’ll keep each other young forever.

when we grow old, and my skin
would get wrinkled
would you still hold
my hand?
as we walk in our garden
in our private little haven
…..would you still think
i have a beautiful hair
when it turns gray and fair?
would you still touch and smell
if the wind blows and mess it,
would you sweep it well?
if i could no longer strut when i walk,
and crack my voice when i talk…
would you still sing with me?
even if i sing off key? [like i do now...]
would you still think i’d be beautiful?
when we’re both eighty years old….
would we still be playful
even if we couldn’t be this bold..
i guess you will….
because i know and i feel
i wouldn’t care how you are
you will always be my shining star…
the same boy i fell in love in my teens
our hearts are made for each other…
ever since.

—
PS.
would you still let me bitch around when i feel like fighting? i love you….
and when i do… [no more PMS as an excuse--ill use growing old and the meds then...]
just hold my hand still and hold me tight. and kiss me…
we’d always have good teeth.