The Future? Poem by George Aul

A elderly couple sit in the park,
still holding each others' hand,
something familiar catches my eye,
but for them, no one exists in the land.

Their skin is withered with age,
their clothes are withered, too;
they hold each other so tightly,
with their shared millions of 'I love you.'

I smile as I walk on past,
a glint of envy shines on through;
I was certain that I would be the one,
on that bench saying 'I Love You.'