When you are old - a poem by W.B.Yeats

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

- W. B. Yeats. 

    I remember reading this poem a long time ago in a book I once knew. Books are like old friends for me, they come unexpectedly, just when I need escape and for many cases, they go back to where I found them, the library, of course. And every time a borrow a book that I've already read, it's like seeing an old friend I once loved. But minus the awkwardness and painful memories. How awesome is that? 

    Anyway, the book was a romance novel, not a happy one but a tragic one as many of them are. It told of love lost, of being betrayed, of betraying someone, of unexpected bonds that last the longest and of things coming full circle.  

    Maybe that's why I'll always be better off alone, I have stronger feelings for some books than I do for some people. Go figure, huh?