Growing old

My eyes are growing old
With the bleaks I suppose not to see and less of shines I must
I wonder if you will like me with old eyes.

My ears are growing old
With spurt of falsities and less of solicitous symphony I must
I wonder if you will like me with old ears.

My lips are growing old
With the fake guilt smiles and less of squashy love I must
I wonder if you will like me with old lips.

My nose is growing old
With plastic breeze and less of essential fragrance I must
I wonder if you will like me with an old nose.

My heart is growing old
With sopping up blots, blues, blames, growing big and supple
I know you will love me with an old heart.