My bride

Grow old with me my bride,
and one day we’ll sit on a porch swing,
my arms wrapped around you
as you bury into my chest.

Your hair white,
sparkling like the snow,
but I’ll still see the golden wheat
fields they once were.

Two wrinkled faces
worn by the sun and adventures,
but your eyes oh, your ageless eyes,
crystal blue like the streams
we once fished upon.

You’ll always be my bride,
my beautiful bride.

-akw-

___

©2022 Angel K Will • Twitter •  Instagram 

Blog Photo by Alesia Kozik from Pexels

More by -akw-
GOD is so much more: a poetry collection, click here
Photo+Graphic Art, click here

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