Till Death Do Us Apart

A walk down the mountain trail,
with the sun shining bright,
the squirrels playing peek-a-boo
flock of birds in flight.

The twinkle of the little stream
running down the vale
patterns of our shadows,
telling many a mushy tale.

Tea by that quaint shack
resting against a tree
manned by that old couple
warm and full of glee.

The day spent traversing,
many a mountains wide
talking of this and that
letting the time glide.

Love, let us celebrate love,
with nature in our hearts,
hand in hand in the mountains,
Till death do us apart.

Those who seek love, find love. Though true love can seem elusive to many, but it does find us all seekers nonetheless. So eventually when it does discover me, I want my platinum day of love to be spent in the bosom of nature, for nature is eternal - it's bounties are infinite. How beautiful it would be to sit by a mountain brook, hear the birds sing and watch the world go by. 

True love is eternal, infinite, and always like itself. It is equal and pure, without violent demonstrations; it is seen with white hairs and is always young in the heart. 

 -- Honore de Balzac