The fires of youth have dimmed within our gaze,
And morning gold has turned to silver gray;
Yet hand in hand we walk through autumn days,
In quiet fields where softer shadows play.
Behold the lines upon your brow, my dear,
Like maps of journeys we have shared alone;
No storm can shake us now, nor winter fear,
For love has settled deeper in the bone.
Like ancient oaks with roots deep in the earth,
We stand against the passing of the year;
The passion’s flame has found a truer worth,
A constant warmth that holds the spirit near.
It is not wild desire that binds us fast,
But silent knowing, forged in joy and tears;
A sacred vow meant from the first to last,
To love steady through the fading years.


