When your hair has turned to winter
and your teeth are in a plate,
When your getter up and go
Has gone to stop and wait -
I'll still be loving you.

When your attributes have shifted
beyond the bounds of grace,
I'll count your many blessings,
not the wrinkles in your face -

I'll still be loving you.

When the crackle in your voice
matches that within your knee
and the times are getting frequent
that you don't remember me -
I'll still be loving you.

Growing old is not a sin,
it's something we all do.
I hope you'll always understand -
I'll still be loving you.

C. David Hay