A Confession to You For Ageing

I’ve waited for you so long, my darling,

Lithe as a young sapling, beside a stream.

I’ve wasted years, filling them with worry,

Obstinately obsessing over nothing.

My face worn with wrinkles, is soft no more,

My eyes are dim and my smile departed.

The years are like deep canals on my soul,

Moving ships of grief to a sea of fear.

All will be your little lambs love one,

And all one day will grow to be sheep.

And all shall whisper, as all will do,

A confession to you for aging.

You my dear are a forever being,

Like the dazzling first word of the first word,

My failing feet do not carry me fast,

I’ve lost you down the dim deep dens of dreams.

So hold my hands long loved one, my darling,

They are still eager and petulant things.

From age to age there will be younger ones,

Who shall always enshrine you in their hearts.

All will be your little lambs love one,

And all one day will grow to be sheep.

And all shall whisper, as all will do,

A confession to you for aging.