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will you still love me when?

Will you still love me wrinkled grey;
My crackling voice attempting to say
Sweet words of adoration?
Will you still be there by my side
To ride the waves of tide when it is pulling out?
Will we still find elation in each other's eyes
When cataracts set in? I am myopic.
I cannot see tomorrow.

Will you still find my touch endearing
When my fingers are gnarled and knotted?
Can I still stir your blood to searing
As our allotted Time is coming to a close?
Is it possible that carotid arteries can carry
Rushes up the spine? Will I still make you
Strong and weak, long and firm? After the fire
Has burned, will the heat of embers
Be enough, bellowed to renew?

When we separate to other rooms,
Will you still miss me until I return
Again to you?
And when our costumes include shawls and canes,
Our infirmity sure in glass reflected, rude
The appearance of failing skin,
Remains of treasured moments
Resurrected In photographs, will we still laugh
At funny lines we speak and will the dawn remain
Sublime as sunrise peaks through blinds
When we awake?

Will you still take your hand in mine
And sit out on the swing to watch the Winter
Bury Fall in snow? And will you bring me
Calls like singing birds upon your flute
And root for my awakening when I have
Slept too long, my pulse weakened on
Your fingertips? Do you think
Your lips will long for the satin of mine?
Do you think our tongue will yearn to sink
Into my willing mouth after geese and gander
Have flown south for season's
Death?

Will you still want to
Feel my breath in whispers through your ear,
Though in a rasp abscent annunciation?
As we approach the
Station, resting arm in arm, my head upon
Your shoulder, will you be colder?
Will you be willing to join a final walk?
Will we still be able to talk of pain and joy
And cry the dawn alive? As we arrive
To lie beside the river in the glen,
Our mountains far behind,
Tree lined paths casting shadows
From bare branches, will you still
Love me then? Will you still love
Me then?

And when my breasts lie flat
Upon my belly, the royal jelly of the hive
No longer filling quick the Queen,
And when my legs no longer reach
The heels, when wheels must take us on a
Bus to pharmacies and nurses, will
You still write me verses, songs of longing
Lyric? Will our satiric whimsy be in tact?
When prayers are nearing an amen
And artifacts of memory are hiding,
Will our spirits come together
Coinciding? Will you dare to fly
To farther-past-the-eye with me,
Far past now and then?
Will you still
Love me
When?

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"i love NY & Manhattan at the Chelsea"
photography digitally enhanced
by doreen peri