If it Meant Losing You

We are not spring chickens;
The fire in our bellies has long banked
And the beauty of my youth has faded
Like fog when the sun burns through
You wear glasses slid down on your nose
And still your arms aren't long enough
To read the fine print of that book in your hand
We go through our lives quietly,
Efficiently dependent on each other
Reliable as the sun coming up
Or the night falling
Some would say boring;
Yet I would never trade this life
Or wish for my beauty or the
Flush of youth and the excitement
And adventure that comes with it
If it meant losing you
It matters not to me that my mirror
Is no longer my friend
And age has taken your danger away
For when you reach for me in the dark
You touch me like I am still twenty
With all the passion of a man
With clear and youthful vision
And all the love I could wish for