Barbershop Quartet

I refuse to grow old
Yearning for the days of my youth.
Instead, let me sing away the years
In a barbershop quartet
With my closest friends.
We might be worlds away
From one another,
But we will whistle from our hearts
A tune so pristine
It will lull the moon into a
Cornfield slumber.
The songs we choose
Are of our own composition,
Arranged only for us and no one else,
Lamenting the past with doo wops,
Humming the present with hallelujahs,
Welcoming the future with ol├ęs.
Our hair will fall out
The way our love never will,
Chins and bellies in rolls of laughter
Through centuries of pacific bliss,
Celebrating our milestones
With the music of our being.
Sing me a song, brother
And let me be your accompaniment.
As long as we have the harmony
Of each other,
I have no need
For the trivialities of youth.