Every time we’re back here, we’re a little older, grayer. Maybe a little wiser, but at least not too worse for the wear. When I see you, every time, here, I’m still speechless.
Every time we’re here, the world seems like it’s spinning a little faster. No matter how hard we try, we can’t slow it down. And soon enough, without even noticing it’ll be 66 years later and we’ll be the veterans in the room. God willing that’s us.
Most days, I pray I could pause the music, so we could just stay in today a little while longer.
But if it can be you in my arms. If we can stay with our noses close enough to where all I can see is you, with all else blurred and out of focus. If our cheeks stay close enough so that the only whispers and songs I hear are yours.
If we have enough room out here, for each sway, twirl, dip, and sashay. If yours is the beat I’m moving to.
If it’s you, for ever and always. Let’s pray instead that the DJ keeps it spinning, so we can dance here a little while longer.
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