His eyes had dimmed,
But it still looks that spark,
A very light gray glow, on
over the legs of many hearts of a man,
Her cheeks wrinkled,
But it still looks the red hue,
Magnet once blazed,
To appeal to many applicants,
As Yeats said about his unrequited love,
One person loves the soul of the pilgrim in you,
And love the sadness of your changing face,
My love remains for no reason, no season.
