In the future, I intend to grow old.

In the future, I intend to grow old.

A Poem by Scisenheart

Safely held in lover's arms,
Oh me, Oh my, My lust.
Helpless in my lover's arms,
Doing what I must.

I must live each new day through
And forget what is wrong,
Live through each day and be happy
When we all sing the same song.

A song of joy, A song of hope,
Is just as shrill as sorrow,
A song that forever shall presume 
That the future is the same as tomorrow.

For tomorrow we wake, in out lover's arms,
Such a hot embrace is cold.
Still, we hold on, for that is our purpose.
That is what we are told.
For fear of growing old.

© 2012 Scisenheart

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Added on July 26, 2012
Last Updated on July 26, 2012



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