« Babies | Main | Decisions, Decisions »

Poetry Pleases: A Lover's Lament

Will you still love me at seventy, asks Mike Eastwood in this bitter-sweet poem.

Will you still love me at seventy
What! you didnít hear what I said
I said will you still love me at seventy
Oh! go and get back in to bed

Will you still care when Iím older
Yes, your meal is nearly prepared
I'd love to think you lie dreaming
Of all the good thing we have shared

Shall we make love in the morning
Oh! alright you think itís too bright
I could always sleep with my teeth in
I wonít look quite such a sight

Will you still love and caress me
When my bosoms hang down to my waist
Yes I know that you easily tire
But we donít have to do it in haste

Oh Id love to think I still lured you
Away from your books and the box
Yes I know that Iíve lost that first promise
Did you want help with your socks?

Oh I hope youíll still love me at seventy
That youíll transport me up in to heaven
But I know that Im asking a miracle
With you going on seventy seven


Creative Commons License
This website is licensed under a Creative Commons License.