A Nighttime of Bliss

I wasen't always old, hair gray, hips wide,

I once  was beautiful, in his own eyes;

I was his one, yes, only Loving bride,

he was a humble man, though Godly wise;



Real Love, it bloomed at nighttime, in the dark,

when softly he would hold my hands in his;

our moments of sweet bliss, remained the spark,

so well I do remember all of this;



Sweet Love it Blooms, each night, though time

              may pass,

like flowers that need time to grow, their best;

he loved me patiently, how it did last,

Oh how our life together was so Blessed;



Fear not the graying of your hair, wide hips,

it's not what counted in the very end,

it was the very touch of two fonds lips,

upon those two fond lips, we did depend.