We talk of young love
as if it’s the only love that matters.
Those heady days fade.
No, talk to me about old love.
With its gentle patina of well-worn comfort.
Of another, knowing your thoughts,
knowing what makes your heart race with joy,
laying down dreams so you can find yours.
Talk to me of choosing the same one,
over and over,
even when it’s hard.
And one day to finally have our hands untwined by
– Talk to me of old love.