[ WP ] Turn your favourite song into a piece of prose/poetry without mentioning the song .

I picked up the dog-eared letter from the bedside table, and sat down on the fresh new sheets. Unfolding the piece of paper, I furrowed my brow at the scrawny handwriting and began to read: 
 
 `` I want this story to be shared. I want to be remembered. We lived. 
 
 I arrived on her doorstep 37 seconds before I was scheduled to be. I had sweat on my brow and around my collar. My shirt was untucked and my lace was undone. I stood on the porch frantically trying to make myself look presentable, when the door swung open and her father stepped outside. He was a large, overbearing labourer, and I could feel my voice strain as I held out my hand and croaked'sir'. He laughed, and shook my hand, before his face regained it's seriousness and he said'Son, have her home on time. Promise me you'll never leave her side!' I could do nothing but nod, and as she stepped from the house I was captivated by her beauty. 
 
 We went to a show in town, and I had worked for two weeks to buy the tickets... even though I spent the whole show watching her. Walking her home, I felt as if I was ten feet off the ground. I held her hand, and the way she smiled stole my breath away. As we walked down the old road under the stars, I swore to myself that I would always remember where I was the night I fell in love. 
 
 Ten wonderful years passed, and I sat in the waiting room, staring at the clock striking half past one. My knuckles turned white, and I was lost in thought when the doctor came in, shook me and said'come in and meet your son' I let out a sigh of relief, and as I entered the room and saw my wife, my knees went weak. She beamed and said'he's got your eyes!'. That night, I held them both tight as they slept, and my mind drifted back to that first night, when I was walking her home. 
 
 We walked through the best years of our lives. Sixty years together and I've never left her side. Today, at 85 years old, I sat by her side in the ward, and heard the doctor say it could be her last night. I heard the nurse ask if they should let me know, but the doctor refused, saying I should wait until the morning to find out. I'm crawling into bed beside my wife for the last time. For almost my entire life, I've gone where she has. That wo n't change tonight. I am remembering our very first night, for the very last time. Remember us.'' 

