I got to thinking the other day.
About you and me and senile decay.
Will I still be red hot when I’m sixty four.
Will you still turn me on as you did years before.
When we find a hotel and go to book in.
Will we ever remember what names to fill in.
When I arrive a bit late will you still hear my knock.
Or will you be stone deaf and keep the door locked.
Will we both still fit in the bath late at night.
Will we look in the mirror and not get a fright.
Will we still walk for miles come rain or come shine.
Have days full of smiles and drink lots of wine.
Will we go to the disco or will you say hell no.
Will we cuddle and dance slow or do the ago-go.
Will you still be my lady in red.
Will you still turn every head.
When I think of these things in the future I know.
I get a bit sad and a little bit low.
Still there’s one consolation I’d like to relate.
I know you won’t like it, you might get irate.
You’ll be older than me, when I’m sixty four.
And drawing your pension to meet me once more.
But don’t worry darling, I know you’ll still be.
Pretty as ever and the whole world to me.
David Barlow
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-i-m-sixty-four-3/
