Her Letter to Him

Beloved, Our time together is like a bouquet of flowers in spring, picked from fields in exotic places. It is beautiful but time will come when they wilt and the fragrance will be no more. I am like that flower, that slowly wilt, as time goes by. I hope that the grey in my hair will not be a greyness in your heart, that the lines on my cheeks will not be pain in your eyes. Or the dithery steps will not shame your heart. There will be a time, when beauty is hard to discern through the wrinkles on my face the lines on my neck, the flabbiness of my arms. Thus My Beloved, If such years aged your love, a wise thought now, is to pick a path...to love or to Love hard.
Grace