When we are all old

When love finally bears fruit, when rose petals are scattered,
when the purity of the wedding dress merges with the joy of double happiness,
when our fingers are intertwined and our hearts sink into an ocean of bliss...
when the Milky Way shines through the window, when candlelight flickers on the wall,
when we recall the shyness of our first hand-holding,
when we speak of the trepidation of our first visit to your home,
when your tenderness and my doting embrace each other,
when we both make a solemn promise (to cherish each other through thick and thin),
when we are both old, with wrinkles on our faces,
you will still be the face I love most
, and I will still read you old love letters.
The sunset paints a picture of overlapping silhouettes.
When we are both old, with faltering steps
and trembling bodies, we will still support each other,
writing each other's names on our palms,
a promise that this is the mark of our reunion in heaven.
When we are both old, you lean against my heart,
and no matter how fierce the storm outside the window, we will warm each other.
When we are both old, you count on my fingers,
recounting page after page of yesterday's happiness and joy...

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When we are all old

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