He's seventy five and she's seventy two both widowers, she doesn't remember as well as she use to. From my doorway I witness their love everyday in the way he helps her to get ready for bed, the way he picks out her clothes and washes her hair, the little sounds and faces he makes just to hear her giggle.

When I pass by their room they are laid up together inseparable she nestled tightly in his arms he holds her like shes glass.

Yesterday he bought her a rose, a red rose because it was valentines day. She ran in my room waving that thing giggling and smiling like a schoolgirl crush. She gave me great big hug. Such joy I saw in her face this woman who sometimes can't remember her name. But him, she never forgets for she tells me he is her love.

As I stood there looking at her the years faded from her face and I caught a peek of what my uncle must see. She ran out of my room and I turned and shut the door smiling as a tear ran down my cheek and I thought love is truly ageless.