I see the tremor in your fingertips, As porcelain cup dances on the rim, A waltz of nerves, a fragile, feathered ship, Threatening to spill, a love once brimming.
Your laughter, once a cascade, bright and free, Now scatters soft, like leaves in autumn air, Each whisper holds a silent memory, Of sunlit days, a love beyond compare.
Your eyes, twin pools where galaxies reside, Dim slightly now, with shadows at the edge, Yet still they hold a love that will not hide, A tender ember on a winter ledge.
Your limbs, once restless in a lover's chase, Now move with grace of willows in the breeze, A patient strength, a quiet, steady pace, Reflected in the way you hold my knees.
We walk, hand in hand, along the twilight shore, Your steps, once light, now etched with patient scars, But love's soft whisper travels evermore, In tangled roots of beating, twinned hearts.
The setting sun paints gold on silver hair, A crown of time, a testament we share, Though shadows lengthen, love will always dare, To bloom anew, with every whispered prayer.
For in the hush, where words like snowflakes fall, Our souls entwined, transcend the body's plight, A love eternal, echoing through it all, A beacon in the fading, starlit night.
So let the tears, like winter rain, descend, A cleansing tide, where memories convene, For in this love, until the very end, My heart finds solace, wrapped in yours, my queen.
Copyright Peter Christopher 2024
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