I'm sixty four and I still want more,
of her warmth and love.
We've been together forty years,
and still that's not enough.
Another forty would survice,
until we learn to fly,
HIGH in heaven - from cloud to cloud,
above a deep blue sky.
She still tugs on my heartstrings,
when she walks into a room,
because of the pure joy she brings,
that's never out of tune.
Because of the sweet songs she sings,
under a new moon,
another forty would be nice.
Just forty's much too soon.
To see her smile I'd crawl a mile,
through shards of broken glass.
I'm sixty four but I still need more,
of a love still born to last.