Poem by Peter Nduati
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POEM BY PETER NDUATI
LOVE GROWS NOT OLD
When his white hair is an open tablet of wisdom and truth
Her wrinkled face is his claim to beauty
His declining eyesight is but a mirror drawing her closer
And her sagging breasts are pendulum
Oscillating a capella music to his ears.
Love grows when his limp is a call for support
Her stoop is a mirror reflection of sturdy beauty
Limp and stoop are shadows of evenings of dance
And sleepless are but chatter and gossip time.
Love grows when grandchildren jump onto your laps without a care.
When moustache and eyebrows they weave like tendrils.
When hair from ears and nostrils they pull without a worry.
And grandchildren value you more than their parents do.
Love grows when she crawls out of bed as cockerel crows
And he slides to her side to keep bed sheets warm
And she makes a cup of coffee for him and him only.
Then she slips back to bed with a wrinkled smile.
For in ageing love grows neither old nor cold.
Prepared Angela Kosta
