Angela Taplin, scribbler of fiction, poetry and (sometimes) Deep, Meaningful Reflections on Life. She’s a member of Chesham Writers and Scribblers and prefers la dolce vita to Ryvita any day.
Will you still love me? (With apologies to W.B. Yeats)
When we are old and grey
- -Well you, anyway –
(I’ll still be softly fair
Courtesy of Shirley’s Hair)
And our joints creak
And our diaries speak –
For better or for worse –
Of regular dates with doctor or nurse,
Will you still love me?
And after so many years
Of the struggle and the tears
That life inevitably brings
- -The swings
And roundabouts of married life
(Shall I make a good wife?)
The heartaches and the sorrows
Of so many unknown tomorrows,
Will you still love me?
When we sit in silence side by side,
By shared emotions and long memories tied,
An old dog lying on the floor,
World’s troubles held at bay beyond the door,
Will you still love me?
Will it still be me you see?
Will your heart, like mine, be true?
Well then. I will. I do.