When I get old, and wrinkles carve their claws into the hills of my visage

like a thousand deep, rich streams, abundant with the hidden treasure of time

promise me you’ll listen

When knots twist my soft-stemmed knees into gnarled branches,

hum the melody of my almond brown eyes and taste the

saltwater kiss of my memories

Touch my folded eyelids with your finger

like a phantom of the boldest ray of sunshine

spreading its warmth as a roaming flame

and teach me the way to dance beneath the golden canopies of autumn

remind me how sweet your breath smelled in the rain

place my shrunken fingers to the soft pages of a journal

and let me draw from it crystalline moments

that sparkle in my half-lit, moonlit, mind

And I’ll remember…

Yet the tears will be merely drops of dew on pink peonies

and rings of laughter, only bell chimes on the wind

Your smile will be Orion to me, and your love, the affection of a star-eyed lover

Then let me go…

and make a wish on my life as on the wisp of a dandelion

and then I’ll soar, ever-floating, evermore.