Grow Old With Me

I want you to grow old with me, I whispered.

What does that mean, she said?

It means that every sunset, every dawn
Every moment, is woven into a beautiful tapestry,
A rich fabric of our time together.

It means that every breath I take for now,
And forever,
Fills me with the scent of your grace.
Feeds me completely with the moment of you.

What more does a man need?

No, there’s nothing more.

Not now.

Not evermore.

 

© 2017 W. C. Stacia, Jr.

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