Walking home a lonely man,
I saw old lovers holding hands.
She a queen and he a sage,
Still swung her door in his old age.
I took this in with eager eyes
For love oft’ hides with gray-haired wise.
A gift — a treasure — I’d come across;
A youthful joy for years of loss,
Refreshing light from a world unknown,
And a fruitful harvest from seeds well sown.