08/14/2020
Til all my bones grow weary
and my vision becomes weak;
Til I turn out all wrinkled
and gray so to speak;
When all that’s left of time
is a handful of memories;
I’ll spend it all with you
in a gentle reverie
And when all the colors fade
and death do us part
I will meet you where life ends
and forever marks its start
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Sparkles and Poetry 