The Life of a Relationship

A year ago a child was born,
It was my love for you,
A small, cute thing, born of trust,
Shining it was new.

Its puberty was spent in jest,
A veritable heaven,
Just learning all about itself,
The glorius eleven.

The jokes now were more naughty,
A desire to see it through,
Quickly did it come of age,
Its prime of twenty two.

Then there was an almost,
A closeness new to me,
You occupied my every thought,
It now was thirty three.

In breaking up, you broke my heart,
And also shut a door,
Melancholy, Bittersweet,
And then its forty four.

We still talked, but in the past,
And where I'd rather be alive,
Nostalgic and looking back,
The lost years, fifty five.

Our time was growing shorter,
The reaper comes too soon,
A final push of visits,
And there goes the funeral tune.

I weep not for the death,
For all things must meet their end,
But for that which could have been,
I pray a second chance God sends.