Poetry, Ross

There was a couple at the restaurant we ate lunch at once, they looked only a few years shy of 90. She was bent over and fragile, his dark hair had long since turned white, their faces wore the creases thousands of smiles and tears and days filled with laughter and dreams, and maybe nights filled with the heartache of being apart, but in their eyes, the love shined.

He leaned close to me and whispered “I want us to be like them in 50 years time.”

I believed him.

I believe in that old couple.

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