Until Our Hair Grows Grey by Kevin Castro

In the loneliest times of my life when my mind becomes

Nothing more than the night.

Filled with nightmares and regrets,

She takes my hand and takes me to the beach.

She never stops loving me, even on the days

When all I want is to be forgotten…

Her eyes full of promise, staring into mine

Gleaming like the stars would on our night drives.

She gave me some of her light whenever I needed it.

She was a lighthouse while                I was a ship           lost at sea.

I wrote her love letters,

Poems.                                                                   Ballads.                                                                         Epics.

I scoured entire dictionaries,

I begged scholars to teach me their languages,

I roamed the earth for lifetimes in search of the right words in the right order to finally describe

How beautiful she was to me.

The moon followed her tirelessly,

Hoping to one day become a mortal

So he could take her hand and see

Why she’s the one I want to marry.

She had a grace about her that

Would put royalty to shame.

No….no…

See, the more ways to describe her that I searched for,

The more I could see that one single language wasn’t enough for her.

She ruled over my entire existence, she was my origin and my demise…

Mankind’s simple tongue was never going to be enough for her.

So I spent my days making new languages for her,

My hair grew grey, but I was nowhere near close,

See, I could tell you that

Her beauty could outshine the morning sun

And that

Her eyes entranced anyone that looked into them,

I could tell you that

Every love song ever made was secretly about her,

Or that

The oceans only rise in hopes of finding her on their shores,

That

God uses her as his inspiration when he paints every sunset onto our sky,

Or that

The sun rises from the west some days so that she would be the first thing he sees in the morning…

None of that would be enough to truly describe to you

My love for her.

So, I spend my days writing novels until my hands can no longer hold a pen,

Filling entire books in a language you can only read when you’re in love.

Hoping that one day I may finally find the words –

One day I may finally create the words –

That could truly encompass her grace.

But for now, I’m a simple writer

Whose love is there for him whenever he needs.

She waits with patience,

For love is being patient enough

To create entire languages,

And love is kind enough to stay

Even when our hair grows grey.