Growing Old
Come sit with me and take my hand,
We’ll watch soft twilight fade to grey.
While stars begin their sparkling show,
And crickets start their noisy play.
Come sit with me and reminisce,
While climbing roses trail along the vine.
We’ll talk of days gone long ago,
And memories grown sweet as wine.
Come sit with me and kiss my tears,
While birds their wings do gently fold.
I fear our time is fleeting now,
For along the way we have grown old.
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