Love and Age
I play'd with you 'mid cowslips blowing,
When I was six and you were four;
When garlands weaving, flower-balls throwing,
Were pleasures soon to please no more.
Through groves and meads, o'er grass and heather,
With little playmates, to and fro,
We wander'd hand in hand together;
But that was sixty years ago.
You grew a lovely roseate maiden,
And still our early love was strong;
Still with no care our days were laden,
They glided joyously along;
And I did love you very dearly,
How dearly words want power to show;
I thought your heart was touch'd as nearly;
But that was fifty years ago.
Then other lovers came around you,
Your beauty grew from year to year,
And many a splendid circle found you
The centre of its glimmering sphere.
I saw you then, first vows forsaking,
On rank and wealth your hand bestow;
O, then I thought my heart was breaking!--
But that was forty years ago.
And I lived on, to wed another:
No cause she gave me to repine;
And when I heard you were a mother,
I did not wish the children mine.
My own young flock, in fair progression,
Made up a pleasant Christmas row:
My joy in them was past expression;
But that was thirty years ago.
You grew a matron plump and comely,
You dwelt in fashion's brightest blaze;
My earthly lot was far more homely;
But I too had my festal days.
No merrier eyes have ever glisten'd
Around the hearth-stone's wintry glow,
Than when my youngest child was christen'd;
But that was twenty years ago.
Time pass'd. My eldest girl was married,
And I am now a grandsire gray;
One pet of four years old I've carried
Among the wild-flower'd meads to play.
In our old fields of childish pleasure,
Where now, as then, the cowslips blow,
She fills her basket's ample measure;
And that is not ten years ago.
But though first love's impassion'd blindness
Has pass'd away in colder light,
I still have thought of you with kindness,
And shall do, till our last good-night.
The ever-rolling silent hours
Will bring a time we shall not know,
When our young days of gathering flowers
Will be an hundred years ago.
poem by Thomas Love Peacock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Sitting by the Fire
Barren Age and withered World!
Oh! the dying leaves,
Like a drizzling rain,
Falling round the roof -
Pattering on the pane!
Frosty Age and cold, cold World!
Ghosts of other days,
Trooping past the faded fire,
Flit before the gaze.
Now the wind goes soughing wild
O'er the whistling Earth;
And we front a feeble flame,
Sitting round the hearth!
Sitting by the fire,
Watching in its glow,
Ghosts of other days
Trooping to and fro.
Oh, the nights - the nights we've spent,
Sitting by the fire,
Cheerful in its glow;
Twenty summers back -
Twenty years ago!
If the days were days of toil
Wherefore should we mourn;
There were shadows near the shine,
Flowers with the thorn?
And we still can recollect
Evenings spent in mirth -
Fragments of a broken life,
Sitting round the hearth:
Sitting by the fire,
Cheerful in its glow,
Twenty summers back -
Twenty years ago.
Beauty stooped to bless us once,
Sitting by the fire,
Happy in its glow;
Forty summers back -
Forty years ago.
Words of love were interchanged,
Maiden hearts we stole;
And the light affection throws
Slept on every soul.
Oh, the hours went flying past -
Hours of priceless worth;
But we took no note of Time,
Sitting round the hearth:
Sitting by the fire,
Happy in its glow,
Forty summers back -
Forty years ago.
Gleesome children were we not?
Sitting by the fire,
Ruddy in its glow,
Sixty summers back -
Sixty years ago.
Laughing voices filled the room;
Oh, the songs we sung,
When the evenings hurried by -
When our hearts were young!
Pleasant faces watched the flame -
Eyes illumed with mirth -
And we told some merry tales,
Sitting round the hearth:
Sitting by the fire,
Ruddy in its glow,
Sixty summers back -
Sixty years ago.
Barren Age and withered World!
Oh, the dying leaves,
Like a drizzling rain,
Falling round the roof -
Pattering on the pane!
Frosty Age and cold, cold World!
Ghosts of other days,
Trooping past the faded fire,
Flit before the gaze.
Now the wind goes soughing wild
O'er the whistling Earth;
And we front a feeble flame,
Sitting round the hearth:
Sitting by the fire,
Watching, in its glow,
Ghosts of other days
Trooping to and fro!
poem by Henry Kendall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Unmarked Festival
There's a feast undated, yet
Both our true lives hold it fast,--
Even the day when we first met.
What a great day came and passed,
--Unknown then, but known at last.
And we met: You knew not me,
Mistress of your joys and fears;
Held my hand that held the key
Of the treasure of your years,
Of the fountain of your tears.
For you knew not it was I,
And I knew not it was you.
We have learnt, as days went by.
But a flower struck root and grew
Underground, and no one knew.
Day of days! Unmarked it rose,
In whose hours we were to meet;
And forgotten passed. Who knows,
Was earth cold or sunny, Sweet,
At the coming of your feet?
One mere day, we thought; the measure
Of such days the year fulfills.
Now, how dearly would we treasure
Something from its fields, its rills,
And its memorable hills.
poem by Alice Meynell
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Rebecca
Past loves you always remember
and Rebecca I’ve never forgot.
It was in May when we first met,
and the days were unusually hot.
We were both sixteen and innocent,
and love’s spark grew into a flame.
Desire and passion overwhelmed us,
and our deepest love was to blame.
Early evenings we spent together
and most of our weekend days.
We made love wherever we could,
and in so many different ways.
At eighteen she wanted to marry,
but I said we were too young.
She of course didn’t agree
and of course I was wrong.
We fell out and didn’t see each other
for maybe a week or more,
and then we both apologised,
and made love like never before.
Our relationship became a volcano
in every sense of the word.
One moment all was calm and beautiful,
and then, eruptions could be heard.
Following another reconciliation
we decided to go our separate ways.
This time there was no going back;
there were no more loving days.
She soon found another lover,
and got married without delay.
Nine months after our separation
a baby had come her way.
Because she made no contact
I assumed the baby wasn’t mine.
I never thought any more about it,
and my life was ticking over fine.
Two years later we met by accident
and I asked if the child was mine.
With a grin she changed the subject,
so the answer I couldn’t find.
After forty years had passed,
Rebecca knocked at my door,
and said the woman by her side
is the daughter I should adore.
“Well! After all this time, ” I said,
“how do I know it’s true? ”
“Just look at her, ” she said,
“she’s the spitting image of you.
I brought her here to see you
because she seemed to know
that her dad wasn’t her father,
and she repeatedly told me so.
She pleaded with me to tell the truth
and since my husband recently died.
I felt that I had to tell her about you,
and apologised for all the years I lied.
It would’ve broken my husband’s heart
if he had found out that I had lied,
and so I had to explain to my daughter
why I thought the lie was justified.”
“What a shock! I don’t know what to say,
or come to that, what to do.
I better begin by saying,
“Hello daughter, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eight Years Old
SUN, whom the faltering snow-cloud fears,
Rise, let the time of year be May,
Speak now the word that April hears,
Let March have all his royal way;
Bid all spring raise in winter’s ears
All tunes her children hear or play,
Because the crown of eight glad years
On one bright head is set to-day.
II.
What matters cloud or sun to-day
To him who wears the wreath of years
So many, and all like flowers at play
With wind and sunshine, while his ears
Hear only song on every way?
More sweet than spring triumphant hears
Ring through the revel-rout of May
Are these, the notes that winter fears.
III.
Strong-hearted winter knows and fears
The music made of love at play,
Or haply loves the tune he hears
From hearts fulfilled with flowering May,
Whose molten music thaws his ears
Late frozen, deaf but yesterday
To sounds of dying and dawning years,
Now quickened on his deathward way.
IV.
For deathward now lies winter’s way
Down the green vestibule of years
That each year brightens day by day
With flower and shower till hope scarce fears
And fear grows wholly hope of May.
But we—the music in our ears
Made of love’s pulses as they play
The heart alone that makes it hears.
V.
The heart it is that plays and hears
High salutation of to-day.
Tongue falters, hand shrinks back, song fears
Its own unworthiness to play
Fit music for those eight sweet years,
Or sing their blithe accomplished way.
No song quite worth a young child’s ears
Broke ever even from birds in May.
VI.
There beats not in the heart of May,
When summer hopes and springtide fears,
There falls not from the height of day,
When sunlight speaks and silence hears,
So sweet a psalm as children play
And sing, each hour of all their years,
Each moment of their lovely way,
And know not how it thrills our ears.
VII.
Ah child, what are we, that our ears
Should hear you singing on your way,
Should have this happiness? The years
Whose hurrying wings about us play
Are not like yours, whose flower-time fears
Nought worse than sunlit showers in May,
Being sinless as the spring, that hears
Her own heart praise her every day.
VIII.
Yet we too triumph in the day
That bare, to entrance our eyes and ears,
To lighten daylight, and to play
Such notes as darkness knows and fears,
The child whose face illumes our way,
Whose voice lifts up the heart that hears,
Whose hand is as the hand of May
To bring us flowers from eight full years.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sorrow
I walked into the park and saw a young man sitting by a flower bed
I asked him why he looked so miserable and this is what he said,
“Sixty years ago I fell in love with a beautiful girl and now she has to die
I knew her time would come one day, but the years have just flashed by.
I knew that it was wrong to love her, but my heart ruled over my head.
I was there when she was born at home and I stood by her mother’s bed.
As the years passed I watched over her, and proposed when she was sixteen.
She was so young and beautiful then, and everyday we lived a dream.
She didn’t know that I was different and I just couldn’t bear to tell her so,
but she had suspicions as her hair greyed, and my age didn’t show.
And now my heart is breaking because I want to die and be with my wife,
without her my life isn’t worth living, and I no longer want this life.
For sixty years life has been wonderful for me and my only true love,
but soon I must take her up and leave her in the heavens above.
I don’t know how I’m going to take the woman I adore from my side.
I’m sorry for sharing my sorrow with you, ” and as he left he cried.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Treat Each Living Second As Your Last
When I was five how I wanted to be ten,
I just longed to be a young man,
My mind would wander now and then,
I wanted to be in the grown ups clan.
When I reached ten I thought of being twenty,
By then I'd be driving my car,
Time for the future, well I still had plenty,
Getting older was a distance to far.
Now I've hit twenty I've nothing to fear,
Time fades past me so slow,
I'm still a young man so I've nothing to fear
I've still got a long time to go.
Thirty years old and it's still not too bad,
I've a wife and children I love,
My health is good I love being a dad,
My life is truly a gift from above,
The big four zero has finally come,
I now watch, as my parents grow old,
The thought of that is making me feel numb,
As I know it cannot be controlled.
I'm now in my fifties my children have flown,
This life can be really strange,
Back when I was five I wish I had known,
Growing older you cannot exchange.
Be careful what you wish for it may come true,
Cherish life for it's far too short,
Enjoy what you have age you cannot subdue,
When you're young these facts you distort.
I'm now eighty years old how I wish I were five,
Hindsight's such a wonderful thing,
All those I loved dearly would still be alive,
I'd be thinking of what the future might bring.
You must live for today forget tomorrow,
Just be thankful for being alive,
Though there will be joy as well as sorrow,
It's how we cope that makes us all thrive.
Life is precious don't ever wish it away,
When it's gone it becomes part of the past,
Enjoy your years every wondrous day,
‘' Treat Each living Second As Your Last ‘'
Where Do I Go From Here
BY PARKER MCGEE
Autumn days lyin' on a bed of leaves
Watching clouds up through the trees
You said our love was more than time
But it's colder now
The trees are bare and the nights are long
Can't get warm since you've been gone
I can't stop singin' sad songs
Where do I go from here
Tell me where do I go from here
You said you'd take me through the years
So where do I go from here
Lover's plans like fallen leaves on windy days
Flutter past and they fly away
I thought I knew you oh so well
And I need you now
I need to feel you in the night
I need your smile so warm and bright
I wish my mind could let you go
Where do I go from here
Tell me where do I go from here
You said you'd take me through the years
So where do I go from here
Where do I go from here
Tell me where do I go from here
You said you'd take me through the years
So where do I go from here
You said that you'd take me through the years
So where do I go from here
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Circa 1970 And Years Back
those were the years
we were so young
and fit and prim and
prime and so careless
so young, so dumb,
so stupid, so gullible
we are so ashamed
about us in those years
on the other hand we
must also be proud
remembering about
those years those past
days and memories
oh we were so in love
and so free and bursting
in ecstacies exploding!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nellie Clark
I was only eight years old;
And before I grew up and knew what it meant
I had no words for it, except
That I was frightened and told my Mother;
And that my Father got a pistol
And would have killed Charlie, who was a big boy,
Fifteen years old, except for his Mother.
Nevertheless the story clung to me.
But the man who married me, a widower of thirty-five,
Was a newcomer and never heard it
Till two years after we were married.
Then he considered himself cheated,
And the village agreed that I was not really a virgin.
Well, he deserted me, and I died
The following winter.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Mary in Heaven
I.
I met thee first in May, Mary!
The flower-crowned month of May;
But now thou art away, Mary!
Away from me—away!
Thou wert that all to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
II.
Ah! then thine eyes were mild, Mary!
Thy deep blue eyes were mild;
For thou wert then a child, Mary!
And I another child.
Thou wert that all to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
III.
Thy face was then so meek, Mary!
So saintly mild, so meek,
Thy lily-form seemed weak, Mary!
And mine for thine grew weak
For thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
IV.
You led me through the meads, Mary!
The flower-enameled meads,
By brooks of rustling reeds, Mary!
By brooks of rustling reeds—
Where thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
V.
Wherever you then went, Mary!
No matter where you went—
I followed with content, Mary!
Because you were content.
For thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
VI.
I recollect the morn, Mary!
The beautiful May-Morn,
Beside the Field of Corn, Mary!
The rustling reeds of Corn—
That thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
VII.
Ah! then I took thy hand, Mary!
Thy lily snow-white hand;
And walked along the sand, Mary!
The milk-white road of sand.
For thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
VIII.
I caught thee round the waist, Mary!
The slender Sylph-like waist,
And felt my heart beat fast, Mary!
Because thine own beat fast.
For thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
IX.
Such words fell from thy tongue, Mary!
Such sweet words from thy tongue,
That when you talked you sung, Mary!
You never talked but sung.
Then thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
X.
Thus through the month of May, Mary!
The flower-crowned month of May,
We, courting, went to play, Mary!
And courted in our play.
The years were then to me, Mary!
As hours are now to me;
As time is now to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
XI.
For Love knows nought of years, Mary!
Love nothing knows of years;
And sheds no bitter tears, Mary!
Time measured is by tears.
Thus thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
XII.
What thou art now above, Mary!
I was, as if above;
For Heaven is made of love, Mary!
And I was full of love.
For thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
XIII.
But now these days are gone, Mary!
These halcyon days are gone!
And I am left alone, Mary!
Alone on earth-- alone!
What would I give to see, Mary!
Thy precious form to see?
All thou wouldst give to be, Mary!
In this dark world with me.
poem by Thomas Holley Chivers from Eonchs of Ruby (1851)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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What Are You Doing New Years Eve?
Maybe its much too early in the game
Aah, but I thought Id ask you just the same
What are you doing new years
New years eve?
Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight
When its exactly twelve oclock that night
Welcoming in the new year
New years eve
Maybe Im crazy to suppose
Id ever be the one you chose
Out of a thousand invitations
You received
Aah, but in case I stand one little chance
Here comes the jackpot question in advance:
What are you doing new years
New years eve?
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Are You Doing New Years Eve?
Maybe its much too early in the game
Aah, but I thought Id ask you just the same
What are you doing new years
New years eve?
Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight
When its exactly twelve oclock that night
Welcoming in the new year
New years eve
Maybe Im crazy to suppose
Id ever be the one you chose
Out of a thousand invitations
You received
Aah, but in case I stand one little chance
Here comes the jackpot question in advance:
What are you doing new years
New years eve?
song performed by by Carpenters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Years Past
I gave love time money
I waited hours each time
you were late without reason
embracing you with genuine love
when you finally eventually arrive
you set friends up against me
your ego demanding centre stage
spot light achieved vanity requires
you flirted always unfaithful playgirl
yet you believed ‘I treat you badly! ’
'you do not think you do! '
chasing nice ass in blue jeans
drinking in bar with ego’s idol
(while I wait suffer ever alone)
enjoying socially knowing I will wait
the years pass leaving lies exposed
the years pass testing eternal patience
the years pass wearing upon weary heart
the years pass in gossip shame ridicule
the years pass leaving us eternally alone
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Seconds Of Pleasure
You say you dont desire me,
Shes only a hired hand,
Now you are tired of me.
Expensive care is meaningless,
Feeling nothing and caring less.
Cut off at the pass,
She knows where you were headed,
She wants double-time or a temporary wedding.
And the lucky girl leads a life of leisure,
Though she? with forty-five years
For seconds of pleasure.
I thought I knew you too well,
Now I find the man is a mystery,
And the promises you made
Are really only ancient history.
Everyday goes by without a hitch,
You say the urge becomes an itch.
You say that Im no go for you, thats rich,
Or am I being bitchy?
And the lucky girl leads a life of leisure,
Though she forty-five years
For seconds of pleasure.
And the hands on the clock move so precisley,
You say you only kissed her once or twice.
You didnt do it for love, you didnt even do it with stealth.
I cant help you now,
I cant help myself.
Commited to life and then commuted to the outskirts.
I was living for thirty minutes at a time
With a break in the middle for adverts.
You treat me like a piece of human furniture.
You say when? you sad soul,
If you can look all that you like,
But I wont let you touch and poke.
And the lucky girl leads a life of leisure,
Though she ? forty-five years
For seconds of pleasure.
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kiwi Dave
For forty five years I've been working and I'm just an unfettered slave
And I have gray hairs to show for it I am quoting Kiwi Dave
Five years to go to retirement I was sixty last birthday
And ever since I've started working it's been uphill all the way.
My ex wife said that I was a drinker that I was too fond of the booze
That was her excuse for leaving she said I was born to lose
But I take it in moderation after work three or four beers
And I've been a slave for her and for my children for close to if not twenty years.
Fifteen years ago she left me and she went to live with younger bloke
She got more than half my assets for years to her haven't spoke
She turned my son and daughter against me and my six grandchildren I don't see
And I will spend my usual Christmas on my own watching T.V.
Kiwi Dave is a good person though just a little soured by life
And things for him would have been better had he had a faithful wife
'A woman she can make or break you' with that who could disagree
Dave could see the truth in those words for who would know better than he? .
For forty five years he's been working the hard worker Kiwi
Dave
And for his ex wife and his children for years he has been a slave
He looks older far than sixty the hard life has made him gray
Five more years left till retirement it's been uphill all the way.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fifty Years Of Marriage
With dye and hair colouring they cover their gray
Their fifty years of marriage they celebrate today
Through fifty years of marriage they have argued their way
In their love hate relationship one well might say.
Their better days one can say for them are long gone
And they age without grace though time is ticking on
Their children are grand-parents and the years on them show
Since they too are ageing and their fastest pace slow.
Fifty happy years together by some we are told
But others who know them well and with their words more bold
Will tell you they never did see eye to eye
But why they stay together one must wonder why.
They have stayed together for so many years
One can hardly say of them the lovely old dears
Since they both are quite quarrelsome and grumpy as well
Perhaps without quarrels life for them would be hell.
Fifty years together and the same bed they share
Yet even in public places at each other they swear
Such marriages as their's suppose never were rare
They are not the World's only dysfunctional pair.
Today their descendants will celebrate the marriage of their Pop and Gran
And applaud this wonderful woman and man
But the truth of their marriage they will never tell
How they seem to enjoy giving each other hell.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ever-Present Ring
Ever-Present Ring
==================
My Father Lost A Wedding Ring
The One Cherished For 42 Years
It Was Replaced By What I Bought Him
I Bought Him A New Wedding Band
An Ever-Present Of What Was Present
A Marriage Lasting Longer Than Most
What Was Most Important
Was The Symbol Of That New Ring
It Was The Thought That Counted
And What's Counted Was The Years
He Was Married For 44 Years
He Died This Year
From 1968 To 2012 The Marriage Thrived
After Being Married For 44 Years
He Told His Wife, My Mother
That She Was The Only One
The Entire Time He Stayed Faithful
And In Faith Was His Love
As Parting Souvenir, I Will Keep That Ring
Which I Gave Him Last Year
Because The Symbol Of Union
Between Man And Wife
For All Those Blessed Years
Is What Counts
And Now What's Counted Are The Days
Since His Passing On The 27th Of May
A Day Begun In Mourning In The Early Morning
In May Of Heart Break Mourn
I Will Cherish That Ring
That Ever-Present Ring
And I'll Wear It Every Single Day
To Mourn His Passing
A Bond Between Father And Son
In What May Be My Heart
Will Never Break The Mourn.
poem by Ricardo Antunes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Flower with years
Like a seed
I began in the open firmaments of the heavens
battered by the very elements of nature
to make me strong
in a milieu that
oppresses, dictates, and abuses
but I’ll rise'
like a flower, I bloomed with light’s rays
like a flower, I was groomed by years
like a flower, I unfolded with grace
like a flower, I am the living years
but watch and see'
I’ll be your treasure because of these years
I see me with years -
a cistern that absorbs the days
then
replace them with experiences
a price not paid with a few years
so I murmur not
because of these years
yes
I am these years
but I’ll rise'
like a flower, I bloomed with light’s rays
like a flower, I was groomed by years
like a flower, I unfold with grace
like a flower, I live in years
but watch and see'
I’ll be your treasure because of these years
I’m
crafted in hurt, misery and pain
A price I paid for younger to listen and fear
yet they see this not
yet I’m not perturbed because of these years
but I’ll rise'
like a flower I bloom with light’s rays,
like a flower I groomed by years
like a flower I unfold with grace
like a flower I live in years
but watch and see'
I’ll be your treasure because of these years
poem by Paul Andrew Bourne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Through The Years
Through the years, there will be laughter and smiles
Pain and sorrow too
But i will be going through it with you
Through the years, there will be road trips and vacations
Excitement and adventure
But the only thing making them enjoyable is because i'll be with you
Through the years there will be love and romance
Dinners and movies
But the only thing keeping the flame lit is our undying passion
Through the years there will be weddings and receptions
Futures and joyous memories too
But I won't forget the time when we said 'I DO'
Through the years there will be new life and happiness
Late nights and early mornings
But as long as we're by each others side, we'll be fine
Through the years there will be scraps and bruises
Band-aids and kisses
But we'll be there to help them up when they fall
Through the years there will be teenage rebellion and loud music
Fights and rough nights
But we said that no matter what happens we'll never leave each other
Through the years there will be sickness and disease
Doctors and medication
But we'll make it
Through the years there will be heartache and tears
Death and grievances
But I will hold your hand and help you through all of lifes fears
Through the years we'll grow gray and old
Our children will have children of their own
But know this, beyond the grave I will always love you
poem by Brandi Young
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Always And Forever
hoo.com
I CANT REMEMBER WHEN YOU WERENT THERE
WHEN I DIDNT CARE FOR ANYONE BUT YOU.
AND I SWEAR WEVE BEEN THROUGH EVERY THING THERE IS
CANT IMAGINE ANYTHING WE MISSED
CANT IMAGINE ANYTHING THE TWO OF US CANT DO.
THROUGH THE YEARS
YOUVE NEVER LET ME DOWN
YOUVE TURNED MY LIFE AROUND
THE SWEETEST DAYS IVE FOUND
I FOUND WITH YOU
THROUGH THE YEARS.
IVE NEVER BEEN AFRAID
I LOVE THE LIFE WEVE MADE,
AND IM SO GLAD I STAYED, RIGHT HERE WITH YOU,
THROUGH THE YEARS.
I CANT REMEMBER, WHAT I USED TO DO
WHO I TRUSTED WHOM ID LISTEN TO BEFORE
I SWEAR, YOU TAUGHT ME EVERYTHING I KNOW
CANT IMAGINE NEEDING SOMEONE SO
THROUGH THE YEARS, IT SEEMS TO ME
I NEED YOU MORE AND MORE,
THROUGH THE YEARS,
THROUGH ALL THE GOOD AND BAD,
I KNOW HOW MUCH WE HAD.
IVE ALWAYS BEEN SO GLAD, TO BE WITH YOU
THROUGH THE YEARS, ITS BETTER EVERYDAY YOUVE KISSED MY TEARS AWAY,
AS LONG AS ITS OK, ILL STAY WITH YOU THROUGH THE YEARS
THROUGH THE YEARS, WHEN EVERYTHING WENT WRONG,
TOGETHER WE WERE STRONG
I KNOW THAT I BELONG RIGHT HERE WITH YOU THROUGH THE YEARS,
I NEVER HAD A DOUBT,
WED ALWAYS WORK THINGS OUT.
IVE LEARNED WHAT LIFES ABOUT,
BY LOVING YOU,
THROUGH THE YEARS
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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