Share these I Wanna Grow Old With You poems with that special person in your life. When we feel this way it is like we have found our soulmate.
This type of love is the best type of love as you can't imagine spending your life with anyone else. Let these poems be ones that you share.
Don't let age stop the love and romance in your life. Aging together, getting old together can be one of the best seasons of your life!
The days grow shorter, the nights grow longer,
The headstones thicken along the way;
And life grows sadder but love grows stronger
For those who walk with us, day by day.
The tear comes quicker, the laugh comes slower,
The courage is lesser to do and dare;
And the tide of joy in the heart runs lower,
And seldom covers the reefs of care.
But all true things in the world seem truer,
And the better things of the earth seem best;
And friends are dearer as friends are fewer,
And love is all as our sun dips west.
Then let us clasp hands as we walk together,
And let us speak softly, in love's sweet tone;
For no man knows, on the morrow, whether
We two pass by, or but one alone.
Our attitude towards aging can determine our happiness. You may also be encouraged by our collection of growing old poems.
Will affection still infold me
When the day of life declines;
When old age with ruthless rigor
Plows my face in furrowed lines;
When the eye forgets its seeing,
And the hand forgets its skill,
And the very words prove rebel
To the mind's once kingly will;
When the deaf ear, strained to listen,
Scarcely hears the opening word
And the unfathomed depths of feeling
Are by no swift current stirred;
When fond memory, like a limner,
Many a line perspective casts,
Spreading out our bygone pleasures
On the canvas of the past;
When the leaping blood grows sluggish,
And the fire of youth has fled;
When the friends who now surround us
Half are numbered with the dead;
When the years appear to shorten,
Scarcely leaving us a trace;
When Old Time with bold approaches
Marks his dial on my face;
When our present hopes, all gathered,
Lie like dead flowers on our track;
When the whole of our existence
Is one fearful looking back;
When each wasted hour of talent,
Hardly measured now at all,
Sends its witness back to haunt us,
Like the writing on the wall;
When the ready tongue is palsied,
And the form is bowed with care;
When our only hope is heaven,
And our only help is prayer;
When our idols, broken round us,
Fall amid the ranks of men;
Until Death uplifts the curtain -
Will thy love endure till then?