Pondering the gnarled vineyards at twilight,
it is for their rare fruit that I long.
The vines have survived many a drought and blight,
rendering them sensitive but strong
The fruits of old love are tender and sweet,
having learned to endure sun and shade;
Gleaning fortitude from gales, snow and sleet,
their true value's been measured and weighed
Old love seeks the beauty that veils the heart --
The wrinkled face and the graying hair
matter not; Yet, what a sting they impart
to the lonely caught in Time's cruel snare
Observe the pearl fishers -- they're not concerned
with the oyster's shell, but with the prize
that's dwelling deep inside, for they have learned
precious gems lurk in cunning disguise
Satisfying are the fruits of old love ---
so patiently they wait to be claimed
by soft, wizened hands, gentle as a dove,
yet revealing passion, unashamed
Because of all the sorrows and the tears
and the many heartaches left untold,
love that has withstood the test of the years
is a love that's worth its weight in gold
How blessed are we who can see love's sweet truth
unfolding before our very eyes;
We don't need the exuberance of youth
to yield to love's call 'neath star-filled skies
Old love has had its feet held to the fire,
and it emerged, still able to stand;
It survived the bogs of life's muck and mire . . .
What more can be said? Old love is grand!