When you are old and too tired to sleep,
Steeping like your lemon tea
In ancient memories and dreams,
I wonder if you’ll think of me.
When your forehead’s deeply lined
With remnants of the tears you cried
And imprints of your love and lies,
I wonder if I’ll come to mind.
I know it’s an unlikely case
That I should stay in your aging grace,
But it’s nice to think, without my face,
Still some part can’t be replaced.
I think that you will still be there,
Buried beneath my graying hair,
With every breath of autumn air
And a memory of someone’s care.
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