Our love is still Love at our age:
After our first meeting, our lives became a love poem, with Art.
Wearing plain shirts, slacks and hats…we climbed the
Hill upon Sunset Park … watched the sun setting into
The orange values of the horizon…behind the Bay
Fronting the island of Manhattan
We had many moments in love: a meadow of
Of smiles, mile long kisses on cheeks...holding
Weakened hands that love gave strength…a love like a clear
Stream flowing beneath the memories of lovebirds crying out,
In another time, in solitude
Roses placed in shaking hands by quavering hands in pain
Drooping red and pink roses, they sacrificing their beauty that…
I may be a lovely bouquet of love…
Widower and widow, strong in character, and mind stronger than body
And having experienced, that love is still love at any age: we remarried
In due time from, which love we’re made, and in which we’ll disappear.
April 8,2014
United States...Brooklyn, New York
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem