which in the old days could
move earth and heaven
rather than matching each in aging
which is our strength and comfort.
happened to my eyes and I
no longer see you getting old.
though there are times when my
rose tinted glasses fail, but seldom.
not heaven at the same time, except
perhaps in the morning on a good day.
now that nothing − yet everything − still
matters in this, the journey of the souls.
be realised, that this life was indeed a bed
of roses of which we could not get enough.