With trembling hands she reaches,
she reaches just to touch his face
where trembling melts in sweet caress,
caress strokes soul in sweetest grace.
Through wrinkled eyes he looks to her,
to her, his queen, his love, his wife.
Feels her warmth in aging hands,
aging hands that share his life.
She feels the stubble cross his cheek,
his cheek that’s aged and thinly drawn.
Into his eyes she deeply falls,
deeply falls where love’s been long.
He smiles into her tender eyes,
tender eyes of angel’s love.
He softly strokes her aging hand,
her aging hand light as a dove.
She smiles, he winks,
he winks, she beams,
she beams, he shines
and into love they fall it seems.
Gently aging beauty
when held transfixed by soul,
by soul in love eternal,
in aging ne’er one grows old.