Because that is love,
When my beaten wrinkled skin is still caressed by you,
And your gray smoky hair is my loving obsession.
When we are lovers, may we dance under the full harvest moon,
And pick pumpkins,
At old wellwood orchards.
Because that is love,
When my beaten wrinkled skin is still caressed by you,
And your gray smoky hair is my loving obsession.
When we are lovers, may we dance under the full harvest moon,
And pick pumpkins,
At old wellwood orchards.
The girl observes from afar, unsure of his intention,
thinking his distance is a sign of rejection.
In the shadow of his eyes, she sought a spark,
Comments
The kind of love we're all desperately seeking, sometimes our entire lives---! I appreciate the metaphor here of time finally ripening as if it is harvest season: the golden years have arrived for this pair, years of joy to savor together. It's very touching.
Thank you!
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