If I should, perforce, proceed you,
towards the great woods,
I shall, if They allow, await you.
I shall sit on the bench beneath
the grand old maple sentinel in the meadow,
guard of the darkening path into the trees.
I shall listen to the laughter
of the fairies, angels, perhaps,
tinkling from within the woods,
the soft sound like slender chimes
harmonizing in the cool breeze
just inside the shaded grotto,
entrance into that unknown paradise.
I may chuckle at their childlike songs
and, at times, perhaps, turn my head
to catch a glimpse of their
antic antics in the trees,
wishing soon to leave my seat
to join their playful shenanigans.
But my promise will hold true,and I will
turn again to see you coming,
your gray hair glowing in the misty light,
streaks of silver shine,
an aura around your smile
and there will be no creaking
in my bones when I stand,
arms out stretched to hold you
and there will be no totter in your
quickening pace to our embrace
and when, at last, after that
once again long lingering kiss,
we shall turn and stroll the path,
hand in hand toward those
shimmering rainbow shades
to begin again our next great adventure.