An Aging Wife

I look at her and I can see
A woman approaching slowly
The land of old age, her
Night-black hair invaded by
Lonely gray strands, stragglers
Of an approaching army, a
Relentless force built over
Sixty years, stealing bits of her
Beauty, loosening her skin,
Lightening her bones.

I now can easily see the old woman
She will become, and while I miss her
Light-stepping, insouciant youth
Which pulled both body and heart,
At last I can hear love's secret sound
As she draws my soul ever closer…