The Ones Who Stay Young With Us

We search for someone

to grow old beside

to share calendars,

insurance cards,

the quiet math of years.

But the hidden longing

is simpler than that: to find the one who lets us remain

a little unguarded,

a little ridiculous,

a little new.

I have no illusion about time.

It will do its work on me

with steady, unarguable hands.

Lines will arrive,

bones will ache,

mornings will come earlier than I want.

I am not refusing age.

I am refusing the burial

of wonder.

There is a difference

between maturity

and the disappearance of light.

I can hold depth

without becoming heavy.

I can carry history

without losing laughter.

I can know grief

and still choose to play.

Growing old is automatic.

Staying playful is a discipline.

A quiet, stubborn choice

made in small hours

when the world is asleep

and someone says,

“Coffee?”

and means,

“Let’s keep living.”

Anyone can sit beside you

as the years accumulate.

Few can meet you

at two in the morning

and laugh over nothing

over burnt toast,

over a wrong turn,

over the simple relief

of being unguarded.

The right presence

does not drain joy

to prove seriousness.

They protect it.

They tease without wounding.

They dance in kitchens

with no audience.

They make ordinary days

feel less like labor

and more like air.

Life is already

full of gravity.

Love should not feel

like another assignment

to complete,

another duty

to perform well.

Somewhere

not always in romance,

not always in permanence

there is a person,

or a creature,

or a memory

that keeps the small light

inside you alive.

It may be a dog

curling into your side.

A friend who calls

with nothing urgent to say.

A cousin who remembers

your childhood mischief.

A parent who laughs

before they advise.

A stranger who shares

your midnight hunger for coffee and conversation.

Stay near the ones

who make room

for your unpolished joy.

Stay near the ones

who understand

that depth and delight

can live in the same body.

Because many will age beside you. That part is easy.

But the rarest companions

are the ones

who keep you curious,

soft, loud, and a little wild

the ones who do not ask you

to grow smaller

in order to grow older.

Grow old with anyone

if you must.

But stay young with the ones

who let you laugh like time

has not yet caught you.