“You’re old,” they said.
“Why do you speak of love?
For everyone knows love
Is for the young -”
Indeed, I am not young, I’ve lived
A half-a-century;
I’ve seen the seasons go and
Changes rung —
But love, I think’s perennial,
It always comes around;
It has a way of
Filling up our lives
Until we can see nothing else
And no one else, besides.
It’s there with us,
And like us it
Survives
Completely agree. Wonderful and thoughtful piece!
Thank you. I couldn’t build or construct any kind of technology myself, new or old.