He was terrible at dancing
It was part of his lackluster charm
He tried so hard to do what he could
I can only hope and pray
That the day does not
Come where I begin to
Feel guilt.

We drank three bottles of champagne
He's a beautiful person
A terribly old soul.

But I cannot wait for him.
His mind is much older
Than mine
For I do not want to speed my own aging.
To grow old this young would be a tragedy
And soon many would write songs and plays and poems about us.
But maybe I would want that.