After All Those Years....

i beg to tell you
my dear fellow human beings,
that after all those years
of loving,
time that makes us all nothing
but wrinkles,
seasons that with indifference
change,
flesh that turn to ashes,
bones that disappear,
glossiness that turn
into a rough surface,
i hate to tell you this,
before my death,
love is still, and will always be,
a word.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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