sometimes i watch you,
wonder how you got to look like you do.

how many different you’s there could be
hold that soul
that way
but not quite like that.

and when wrinkles crease
around your clever lips
and crows feet sprawl
beside your galaxy eyes,
when silver claims your hair
(when all the wisdom shows,
when we’re finally old enough to be wise),

i will love you,
your old soul buried
in all this flesh.

i can’t wait until
we are renewed
and we get to find
each other
again.