Lothario Growing Old

As I grow older, my blood cools.
I shall leave fools
To kick against the rules
And retire
From desire,
For the fire
Has burned me to the core.
The flames roar
On occasions still entices.
But no, I will not haggle over prices!
Fools may pursue their own devices
While I drink
The water that cools
And think
On half-forgotten spices.


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