Every morning, on my way to work
I see this "old" man (in his seventies)
Walking his beloved wife to the bus stop
Her bag in his right hand
The other hand interlocked in hers

I smile right behind them
as they take step after step
talking to each other
I could hear the tone of love
in their voice
I never hear the words
(not my business I guess)

Their eyes would meet frequently
as they talk and walk
With smile blooming on their faces
I never tried to overtake them
'cause it's such a beauty to behold
A proof to me that love never gets old

At the stop sign,
He carefully places the bag back
in her hand,
followed by a short hug
Before turning his back
to head for their home

It's such a wonderful sight and
It has never failed to
leave me in awe every single time.