When I am old with no orgasm to excite me,
Sitting by the fireside and having my evening tea;
Thinking where you will be, but where ever you will be,
Do me a favour- do think of me.
The laughter brought by all the lighter side of life,
And the tragedies; yet amidst all the hardship, someone brought smiles in your face- not a stranger, not a jester, not a friend but by a girl who wrote this poem for you.
And silently hide her face in thousand stars of the sky
Not to be traced, not to be found.
*2011 version of William Butler Yeats' When You are Old
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