i want to know you when you are old.
i want to see you with
glasses too big for your face, with
a balding head, with
wrinkles of wisdom telling stories across
your truthful lips.

i want to talk to you when you are old.
i want to hear you when
you divulge exceptional advice, when
horribly bad jokes come back to life, when
experiences are woven into tall tales that
you have known yourself.

but i do not ever want to be old.
i do not want to forget your name, or
where i lived when i was younger, or
the anecdotes of what we've done, or
anything about love.
i do not want to lose my walking body.

i would hate to stay young
and have you age so;
i guess i must give in to the perpetual
unavoidable fate
for the sake of fairness.

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