When you put your palm on my knee, I see a new line on your hand
Like the one on your face, or the grey that will hide in your hair.
But I'll tell you: what is old is new.
One day we wake up the same age as my mom and dad were - back when they had a dog, two kids, and a home.
The next day I hope to be the age of my Mimi.
I want you to be too.
With air in your left lung. A beat next to your ribs. A song that your body will hum with each day that we go on.
To be this: not dead.
Our life can defy time for one more song.
So I will tuck the grey hair by your ear and hold the age in your hand. I wish to stay like this. Day by day, in love even now.
And I'll tell you: what is old is new.