Kissing life live

As I kissed your smooth youthful beauty,
we were warm and alive.
You asked my name and I said Clive.
We stood on the deep precipice of us,
before the deep dive.
Our relationship about to go live.
Never foreseeing that invaders
of our love would arrive.
Their tactics to attack from the interior.
Their choice of weapons superior.
First they launched a dementia strike,
knocking a relative from lifeís bike.
Then a salvo of Alzheimer
carving in our landscape a dike,
that left a scar I could not hike and did not like.
All the shouting and screaming,
venting and reacting just carpet bombed us emotionally.
Cracks appeared sensationally.
Our psyche not ready mentally.
We had to ride out that emotional bronco.
Day and night almost punch drunk oh!
Then death marched repeatedly through the family circle,
griefís tears our only relieving miracle.
As I kissed your rough scars
we had reached a high bar.
Our love less than live now but alive.
You still called my name Clive.
I smiled to see we had arrived.
After years of battle we had not us scuttled.
My hair shot with grey and you added a few pounds,
but still, after the worse of lifeís trench,
not on the bench.
Still sound and standing our ground all around.
I say, we were savvy betters,
to cast our lots together, dear Heather.
Its better together this life, my dear Clive.
Besides, there is the other side of the veil,
and on that sea we are yet to sail.
Let us rise above earthly travail
and of lifeís small joys ourselves avail.
I will with a tale quite beyond the pale
us regale, of Nephilim, fallen angels,
portals and beings beneath the Earth and sea,
that will take us over imaginationís every hill and dale.
Hereís your evening cup of tea Clive,
it sounds like its going to be one whale of a fantastic tale,
likely to blow a shrieking gale.

CI-238607601 Knight Truelove poems