Young love

Oh, he bought me flowers and I squealed and blushed and he laughed and kissed my cheeks. It never gets old. He still makes me feel like a teenager, even after twenty years of marriage and I am still so madly in love with him. He would hold my hand as we walk, buys me pink, tiny things that he knows I’d love, steal a kiss or two when no one is looking and oh he says I still make him feel young, like he felt in the very start of our relationship. Like I’ll still come storming to give him a peck as he is leaving for work, make his favourite meal on Sundays, plan a candle light/ fairy light dinner now and then (he hates candle light, says it doesn’t let him see me properly), straighten his tie, ruffle his hair when he had just set them. And you know the most beautiful part is, no matter how old these actions of ours get, they are as new as the first time, like moonlight, one never grows tired of it.

My friends tease me, that I am still a silly little girl when I talks about him and I still tell him how the girls teased me and he still tells me how smartly I could have answered them, it never gets old. Our children calls us love birds and tease me and him when we look at each other and blush and oh, I don’t ever want it to stop being like this.

I still want to blush when I am fifty and he says my name, I still want to dress up for him when I have grown wrinkles on my face, put flowers in my hair so I can ask him to take them out as we get ready to sleep, still want to hold  his hands in the middle of the street and earn his sweetest smiles, still want to sometimes feed him with my hands, still want to share my ice cream with him, still want him to kiss my hands, still want him to bring me flowers and braid them in my hair no matter how improper they are to put in hair, still want him to leave few sips of his coffee for me, still want him and me to be full of love and life even when we have spent a hundred years together.. I want us to be as young as we were in the very start, for ever.

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