Sixty Eight years of age
and he texts her puppy love
msgs six time a day,
in between phone calls.
long ago lovers,
high school, I think,
Facebook stumbled upon,
and the inky surprise,
that they have relearned to be,
a new shade of
a true blue tint of
the word,
devoted.
mushy is the heart that goes
soft to hard to soft,
soft by innocence, then
Pharaoh hardened by life, then,
softened by reflection,
mushyed by wisdom,
that came costly.
when relearning
the side effects of
discovering the words
that were left unsaid,
or even better,
spoke this time with
better understanding,
greater appreciation.
Now so better
After Aging Aching
in an oak cask
of finally, filly fully
fermented love.
I don't need inspiration
to clap for you,
but your confidence un-betrayed,
name omitted,
as one grandfather tips his hat to another,
all he can smiling say,
*******,
romantic rediscovery at 68,
I suspect is even better than the
first fumbled go around.
For he who knows that I borrowed his words....shhh...