I Can't

Ask me to count the grains of sand,
I’ll go on, losing track,
each tiny piece like a moment,
slipping through fingers,
but I can't grasp it all.

Ask me to count the strands of hair,
I can do that, though it takes ages,
each one a story, a thought,
but I can't hold them tight,
they dance in the breeze.

Ask me to dive deep in the ocean,
I’ll explore its wonders,
even if I can’t swim,
the mysteries call me,
waves whisper secrets and I listen.

Ask me to reach the farthest stars,
I’ll stretch my hands out wide,
even without a ship,
the sky is my canvas,
each twinkle a dream.

Ask me to see what tomorrow brings,
I’ll give it a try, the future winks,
but charts and signs elude me,
I tread lightly with hope.

Yet in all this,
I can’t predict the whims of a woman—
her heart is a puzzle,
woven in laughter and tears,
and after a hundred years together,
I’m still lost in the beauty
of her changing tides.