I've stopped growing and dreaming and becoming.
I've already grown and dreamt and become.
I've settled into myself
Like the dust on shelves
once within my reach.

I'm no longer enamored by the possibilities of life,
But comforted by certain companionship
towards an uncertain tomorrow.

And yet,
I'm delighted by the joy you've found with me.
Tell me your stories and I'll tell you mine,
Of old loves and youthful summertime,
And reawaken the dormant life in my bones.

I'll tell you of my sweetheart,
Who saw me in my best years.
And you'll tell me about your darling,
While we laugh through the tears.

They say love is saved for the beautiful and the strong,
Who have the world before them,
While our years are long gone.

And yet

This could be love,
Even as we walk slowly,
Hand in hand,
Towards that eternal darkness.