Nuala McEvoy | Love in Old Age

She treads more heavily than before, unsteady on her feet.
He walks casually beside her, ever tactful and discrete.
She watches every pavestone, eyes locked firmly to the ground.
He guides her subtly, gently, to keep her safe and sound.

He can never find his glasses, so he shaves quite patchily.
She compliments his appearance, to preserve his vanity.
He wears a worn-out jacket and his tie’s slightly offside,
She tells him he’s looking dapper, so as not to hurt his pride.

She has wrinkles on her face and she bemoans her sagging skin.
He proclaims she still looks pretty with a bashful sort of grin.
She has less of a figure now from being more inactive.
He gives her a look that tells her he still thinks she’s attractive.

He’s so grumpy in the evenings now, before it’s even late.
She smiles at him patiently, never rising to the bait.
He swears at the television, bemoaning the bad news.
She keeps her eyes on her novel, always silently amused.

They go up the stairs together, a routine never unbroken.
They know each other so well, that things are left unspoken.
They lie in bed seamlessly, their old bodies intertwined.
They snore gently in harmony, dreams perfectly aligned.

Nuala McEvoy is from North West England but has lived abroad for many years.  She started writing during the Pandemic and has had work published in Little Old Lady Comedy, Dark Winter Lit, Funny Pearls, Tap into Poetry, Lighten Up Online, The Dirigible Balloon, The Hooghly Review, Transients and The Metaphysical Review.  She has read her poems aloud on Coalition for Digital Narratives and Eat The Storms. 

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