An Old Man Looks At Love
It cannot be
That one and one makes three,
That two and two don't make four.
Or add up to something more.
Numbers are mysteries to me,
Like your brown eyes.
Your eyes meet mine
And like moons they shine.
I look away burned by love.
But can't give it an endless shove
Into a future
I won't control or be in.
In this food court mall
I fear moving or a fall.
Here where I've broken an arm before,
Crashing on a well tiled floor.
Now I'm an old man,
One of many torn
Then stuck in static memories
Of pain, of loss and
Of love.
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