When you are old and grey and full of sleep, nodding by the fire take down this book and remember the look that you once had, eyes in the shadows deep.
I have loved your moments of glad grace, loved you with loves, both false and true, I can not help but to love the pilgrim soul in you and long for the sorrows of your changing face.
How lucky a man am I to have been loved by you across what seems three life times.
How lucky a man am I to have felt the warm of your breath across my cheek and hear you whisper, every so gently, the words “I love you” in my ear.
How lucky a man am I to have felt my hand upon your face and seen the life in your eyes.
How lucky a man am I to have walked with you, even briefly, through this life, to share just a few moments with you.
