When you are old
your body will not look like it does now,
will not be firm, will not hold the appeal it does now
at least to so many other women.
But it will still carry the strength of your character.
Your eyes will still hold me
and you will still smell the same.
[I will still want you.]
The other day I was walking through the grocery store
and I passed an older couple.
The man had to lean on the cart for support
while his wife moved from shelf to cart, to shelf and back again, all along the aisle.
And I wondered
what you would look like when you were old,
how your body would change,
lose its elasticity, labor to move;
its own burden.
You are light now – flitting around me
like a hummingbird for nectar.
(It’s a wonder you don’t fly farther
-around the world if you wanted to.)
But I think I will love you more
when you are broken down,
halting and slow,
each movement a shadow of what your full wing span once was.
Settled, but after you’ve had your flights and adventures.
Then I can circle you