I'll take the first bite as the cold hurts my gums,
As the frost hits my tongue like the spray of the sea,
A tear in my eye from the very first sight of the
ice cream cone you bought for me.
The swirls colored pink in the frozen white cream,
Made to match with the quaint parlor's candy-striped seats,
The old music playing like waves in the ocean,
Together we sit and with hands held, we eat.
The crunch of the cones comes to greet my old ears,
As my weary eyes glance at the ice cream still left,
And the memories pour in like streams to the ocean
Of so many cones that you've bought as I've wept.
Although we've grown old in these same parlor chairs,
With the melted ice cream on our minds and our tongues,
The time that has passed like driftwood in the ocean
Is nothing because with you here I feel young.
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