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Description
I have a secret.
Well, in reality I have many
But this one lives in the core of my heart
In a summer home filled with tropical breezes and warm sand
It's the future.
I'm walking down the aisle in my white dress,
Roses in my hair
And she's standing at the other end
So beautiful
Her hair is black and shining
Twisted raven curls that are in stark contrast to the fresh snow of her gown
Two year later, we sip coffee at home and do the crossword
Go out to dinner and joke around
I'm glowing
And a few months later she holds our child.
Stars above the cradle turn into star gazing on Sundays
I'm Mum and she's Mom.
Reading books aloud together in the evenings
Darling squished between us
First day of school.
Her raven hair begins to gray as the years fly past.
Feet on the staircase,
Tax returns, smiles, and game night.
She cries when our child goes off to college
We have the house to ourselves and flowers always bloom in the window sills.
I get to walk my daughter down the aisle,
She's so beautiful
Roses in her hair of black twisting curls
Like us.
Rocking chairs on the back porch
Wrinkles look more like laugh lines
And blooms still peak out of flower pots.
We may be fading,
But the last thing I'll remember as I slip away is her.

Description
I have a secret.
Well, in reality I have many
But this one lives in the core of my heart
In a summer home filled with tropical breezes and warm sand
It's the future.
I'm walking down the aisle in my white dress,
Roses in my hair
And she's standing at the other end
So beautiful
Her hair is black and shining
Twisted raven curls that are in stark contrast to the fresh snow of her gown
Two year later, we sip coffee at home and do the crossword
Go out to dinner and joke around
I'm glowing
And a few months later she holds our child.
Stars above the cradle turn into star gazing on Sundays
I'm Mum and she's Mom.
Reading books aloud together in the evenings
Darling squished between us
First day of school.
Her raven hair begins to gray as the years fly past.
Feet on the staircase,
Tax returns, smiles, and game night.
She cries when our child goes off to college
We have the house to ourselves and flowers always bloom in the window sills.
I get to walk my daughter down the aisle,
She's so beautiful
Roses in her hair of black twisting curls
Like us.
Rocking chairs on the back porch
Wrinkles look more like laugh lines
And blooms still peak out of flower pots.
We may be fading,
But the last thing I'll remember as I slip away is her.