I wonder, if I called your name,
How long it would take before you came.
What if my siren tongue ran dry, and my throat was taken sore
Would it be in mere vain, if I was to implore?
And what if the soft hand tugging at yours, should quickly lose it's youth,
Would you draw yours sharply back, as if it was uncouth?
And if the legs standing strong before you, should suddenly become weak,
Would my immobility surely be your defeat?
What if deaf, near-dumb, and blind
Your transformed love was to entreat you
With cracked pink eyes,
and other ailments- a fair few?
Would you take her wrinkled hand in yours
Tell her you'd make it through any wars
That she should so lovingly need you,
Well, nothing could make you love her more?