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Growing Old
Growing Old
Passion I've had in great measure.
I don't mean to boast nor be bold.
Youth's wild hormonal-like treasure
Seems misspent, so trivially sold.
I find now I value much greater,
The wealth of emotion I find.
My life's day is waning. It's later,
And something else plays on my mind.
I'm looking for peace and contentment.
I lost that somewhere in my youth.
But found love without bleak resentment.
I need you, and that, Sir, is truth.
There's more joy in sitting here...quiet,
Than ten thousand and ten yesterdays.
I prefer your love's steady diet.
Grow old with me. Love me and stay.
I love this! And what a painting you found (did you paint it?) to go with it. Now that I'm past fifty, I am recognizing how few people write about growing older. We are here! We are alive! Let's write about it!
Shall I tell you how overcome with emotion I am at reading this? Should you know that my goals in life ran precisely with your own? May I say that I am two years older than you and wise in the ways of deceitful lovers? Would it be presumptuous of me to tell you that you are a most interesting lady? I need only to read your words and I have come home. Until next time I remain exclusively yours,
Reuben,
the Midnight Rider
Very nice Jessica, such sweet thoughts!
Kim