When do I tell you? When should I tell you? Life will soon send me on my way again and then it will be too late. We're both young. So while we have this moment together, do I tell you? I can't. I'm not afraid to, or at least I don't think I am. But I just can't. You stay silent, so I refrain from uttering a word. I'm soon taken by the hand and off to another beginning. We say goodbye.
Now as time has settled at last, my hands are wrinkled and my mind has slipped. It has condemned me to a white room with white sheets on a stiff bed. My last moments, so suddenly, stand before me. And then, there you are. Not a mystery to sore eyes, I remember all that you were. You come walking in with your cane and withered hands--as old as I am. A small, familiar smile stretches your lips as you take my hand. And as death takes my other, I decide to tell you. 
"I love you".