As we grow old
a story unfolds
with every scratch and wrinkle
our tale is told
matters of kindess
of love and devotion
Georgeous women
weaving love like a potion
Desires of the heart,
the soul,
the mind
dreams of the future..
We left them behind
the life on this world, was never that kind
These our,
the heartbreaking dreams..
of our lives.
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
