When we met the other day,
the day was young in her own way.
Our paths crossed, our battered lives met.
We chatted long about the promises of our lives that were not kept.
We cribbed and cried about our pasts that we couldn’t change.
About the entire transient tomorrows that were without a name.
We shared our joys; we shared our fears,
Spoke of what we loved and what we wish we neared…
I don’t know what we can, or if we can give our relationship a name.
But ever since I have met you, life for me has not been the same.
Those notes, those anecdotes,
those train rides.
That little blush,
the car drives,
the coffee date with you mate.
They say age is a matter of the mind.
May be they just are trying to be kind.
I am graying old, with still no hand to hold
with just tales of pain and a story of frozen love to be told.
As we move on, many lives we might touch,
and many may be loved
you are a young man now,
with a story untold.
i am older,
yet waiting for my life to unfold
I wonder if it is the right time to add,
a chapter in my life…
It would be wonderful, if we are single when years later, we meet again.
And if we still have years left in our lives.
I’d like to confess, (I know this comes out of the blue)
but before you go, I wish you know, “I’d love to grow … young with you”.