Hour Ten Kyrielle form

Will you still say you love me when
the fall of age when it begins
and when my waist is out of place
upon my features will you trace

The outline of my eyes that look
like jeweled sunflowers pressed in books.
When crows land upon corners lace
your fingertips will you then trace

The sculpture of my body when
the folds of skin need a surgeon
will it be my heart you’ll still chase?
Your eyes, will they then leave a trace

Of true unconditional love
the kind that spreads wings of a dove
locks of silver- an age-old grace
upon my features, will you trace?