One Last TimeWhen my song becomes a whisperand my brush holds no waterI will walk the hidden pathBetween your house and mine.You will tease me, telling meI can't grow old,Only more beautiful.I'll snicker and your smileWill tickle the threads of my soul.We'll laugh as the sun dipsOne last time, hands bound,Eyes locked,Into the light together.***© Amanda MakepeaceNaPoWriMo 2012