Our hair are grey
Our knees are weak
and we can barely see.
But darling, let's dance
beneath the stars or
below the chandeliers.
Let me hold your hand for a while
and rest my head in your chest.
Keep the stereo alive,
before we can no longer breathe.
YOU ARE READING
The unsaid poems
Poetry" it takes a pen, paper and a lot of heartaches for you to feel your pain and soul collide." xyz
