Our life is still.
Quiet Sunday afternoons spent drinking soup and reading the paper
Our soft, crumpled hands clasped loosely together
With my weary bones and your aching limbs
We are falling apart you and I
But I love the way you laugh.
It folds itself around me
And carries me into next week
The faint flutter of this aged heart
Amazed by you still.
Created: Jan 07, 2010Document Media