I wonder what the aim of life must be,
'Twas chance by God or did some sprite decree
I'd find my bride in youth so needed be.
O'er forty years have passed since vows decreed.
Jennie gives love, her love gives life to me.
She sees my walnut face its cracks and lines;
A gut that droops like Bab'lon's garden vines.
Yet gray's her hair I touch her gentle skin.
Aren't orchid petals wrapt with beauty thin?
My loved flower inspires such thoughts when near;
I can't imagine days with out her here.
--Frost swapped out our youthful years of summer.
--Fate must claim one life before the other!