We grow old
We drink our
Coffee cold,
No tea spoons
To count out
The days of
Our loves,
Perhaps only
The slow trot
Over less
Traveled path,
Recording
The journey
For posterity,
With the camera
Sometimes
Our only company,
We grow old
Reaching the age
Of colonoscopy
Instead of tea leaves,
We all trying
To keep pace
With the random
Thoughts that
Fill our heads,
She on her journey
Alone, yet strangely
Happy, as if she
Finally came to
A path she always
Wanted to be on,
And has come
To realize
She doesn’t need
Anybody else
To bring her joy,
She can do all that
For herself
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