GROWING OLD

By Doug Burgum

With old, tired eyes, he reads the page. With old tired fingers showing age,
He holds the book and grips it tight, his vision dim against the light.
And slowly rocking, a gentle sway. The fading sun, againsy the day.
As evening comes, a pause to stare, he looks to check that you're still there.

From across the room, you raise your head, nothing spoken, nothing said.
The look's enough and for a while, he sits and stares at your sweet smile.
A gentle nod, a knowing look, his fingers tight upon his book.
Filled with warmth, and you his wife, he sits and thinks about his life.

So many things to dream and ponder, living memories, growing longer.
He sits and thinks of yester years, sometimes happy, sometimes tears.
Marriage long and marriage blessed, with golden memories none the less.
And not one memory would he change, not one moment he'd exchange.

Inside them both, there does exist, unspoken love that still persists,
And just a smile will say it all, those fondest memories both recall.
He looks again, a pause to stare, he looks to check that you're still there.
A gentle smile, no words to say, a fading life against the day.

Content and warm, and you his wife, he sits and thinks about his life.
With you his lasting love forever, the gift of growing old together.