Would you age with me?

Imagining a future with you is collecting pictures of endless butterflies.
It’s page after page of hearts and initials and forevers.
Eternity with you looks like a smile painted on the moon.
I didn’t believe in love at first sight, but you shone like a better tomorrow,
and I couldn’t help running toward that sort of potential.
Sleeping beside you is poem after poem of all-too-hopeful maybes.
Your name rolling out of my mouth is the sweetest of nature’s honeys.
I can no longer see myself leaving this crazy party at 42,
because suddenly there is someone here to dance and grow old with.
Suddenly, growing old doesn’t sound so awful anymore.
It sounds like booming laughter and looks like butterflies.


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