Every Vision

When you are no longer tender,

Cheeks worn with life,

As you lean against hardened red wood,

I will come to you,

And with coarse,

Old hands I will sweep,

And feel the youth once upon your face,

And your eyes that do not change,

And kiss your brown waves,

In the quiet of a summer day,

Feel your hands in mine,

Peeking smiles,

It all seems to shake,

Every vision,

As we get older and more fragile,

But you the more precious,

At no particular time to mark,

In this corridor we,

With friends outside,

Enjoy our existence.