That day when my vision will become blurred

And the doctor will blubber something about my blood

When my bones will be weak and my whole body bleak

Perhaps I will even need a walking stick

And a pair of big, thick, round glasses


At that time you will be old and ugly

Going to bed in our warm bedroom early

To read with glasses very close to the light

And to sleep peacefully through the night

Cuddled and snuggled in each other’s arms


On Christmas fifty years from now

I want to wake up next to you

My hair and beard all white like snow

Like a real Santa Claus

To look into your wrinkled face

Still bearing that youthful glow

And say to you ‘Good morning boo’


I want grow old with you

Watching the stars twinkling with you

Travelling across the world with you

Holding your old scrawny hand

Walking on the street hand in hand

Listening to the beat of your heart


Growing old with you

Listening to you speak

Kissing your dry shaky lips

Laughing loudly with you

Exposing your toothless gums

Tears rolling down your cheeks

Playing with our grandkids


Going to bed with you

And still making love to you

Reminiscent of the days of our youth

Living lovingly and happily together

And growing old with you