old age

October 28, 2012
By Anonymous

The bench creaks weakly below us
As we swing, swing, swing
Hand in hand, heart in heart
Nothing but the sunset before us

The fists and the waterworks
The sapling shooting to the heavens
And the first glimmer of love

All the wars and the protests
The causes we fought for
And the first glimmer of hope

But now we don’t grow
And we don’t glimmer
And we don’t mind.

We don’t see what’s above and below,
Only the reflection of each other in our eyes
And the sunset in the distance

But now the sunsets almost gone
Last light fades from our eyes

I hold tight to you
I hold tight

I only
See you


The author's comments:
Thoughts on old age. Old love. The sunset of life.

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