Devon and Somerset

You won't see me in Middle Age.
The lines on my face,
The first whispy grey hairs protruding like weeds from my scalp.
Sometimes I will think of you; wondering
Musing as to whether you have a family, grandchildren?
Indeed that transparent, bouncing ball of laughter that could've been our daughter
Would have been the making of beautiful young.

But then I will stop,

In my memory you will live on,
Forever youthful and overflowing in creative abundance,
But now?
Where art thou?
Where are you my sweet, first love Romeo.
You will be somewhere,
Singing in the minds of others.
But darling,
For me there will only be that night,
The hot summer eve,
on The Border.