At the age of eighty
When you’ll be looking
For a hand to grasp,
I’ll become your crutch
Instead,
To walk with you and
Light up your every dream.

At the age of eighty
When you’ll be trying
To read
Your favourite novel,
I’ll become a nightingale
And sing every word of it
Melodiously.

At the age of eighty
When you’ll have wrinkles
And scars
All over your face,
I’ll be in love with you
With all my heart
As I’m today.