Slow and Stooped

When we are stooped and slow,
we will walk along the shoreline together,
hand in hand,
still in love,
even more deeply than we are today.
I will still love your beautiful smile
and the sparkle in your grey eyes
and the way we must always be touching somehow.
The years will not be kind,
and you may not always think me beautiful,
but I will always be beautiful
because you once thought I was.
We may marry or not,
but it does not matter to me,
for I have been yours
since well before you knew you were mine.
There will be Joy while we are young,
and it will be often
and you will joke that you are old,
but you are not.
There will be Joy while we are old,
and it will be of a new kind,
something we have not yet discovered
but brings us happily and insatiably
together all the same.
When walking becomes a chore,
we will sit on our porch
(there will be an "our" porch by then)
holding hands while we rock,
sipping coffee, happy to be in the presence
of one another and God,
and we will thank Him.
Again.
I'm not ready to be there yet.
This journey should be slow
and take years.
I think it is possible our love might grow,
probable even, I feel quite sure.
And oh love, my love, I will welcome the day
when we are slow and stooped,
touching hands or feet or elbows or knees
because having space between us
hurts our hearts more than our joints.
I will basque in happy
at how our love has grown immeasurable
and sent rays of hope
through all who have known us.
I do not fear taking care of you
or that you would not take care of me.
That is just one more happy thing we will do
when we grow slow and stooped.