Flicked open fans in the fine pale hands

of a lady in black and thirty-eight years

she was sitting alongside a debonair man

who it is said has shed fifty-four tears

With the graceful pose of an elegant dancer

she took in the musicians and their show

but oh how she awaited his one simple answer

of whether to stay or to go

He yearned to touch her pale shoulder

his big hands on the curves of her waist

but he worried, he told her, that he was much older

but she told him it was all with the fates

It was hard to deny and this their replies

to some of their very best friends

from first sight of when they ever locked eyes

was when this strange love did ascend

So she took him along to her heart and her home

and assured him that age was no matter

for when two are in sync, it’s silly to think

that love young or old would not flatter