When I'm 80,
my sight blur and my bones frail,
and the chariots of fate await
to carry my tired soul to eternity,
I want yours to be the hand
that holds mine
as I drift away
to a world of angels and souls.
Love note #47
( i never pick favorites but this poem is one of my most beloved ones, it's special to me in a way even I don't quite get♥️)
