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!