Tag Archives: growing old

I Kiss

I kiss
And partake
In bliss,
Then wake
To my greying head
And an empty bed.

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I Smell New-Mown Grass

I smell new-mown grass
As I pass
By the field
Where school children play,
Then pass
Through the Churchyard, where all must,
One day,
Yield to dust.

Cramp

I wake
And feel an ache
In my bones.
I must
Engage with cramp
For age
Has left a stamp
On me
And dust
Hides in corners.

You may
Clear the dust away
But ’tis a never ending task
Which, at last
Will defeat
The best of men.
And the ache reminds thee
And me
That, in the end
The dust will win, my friend

Roses I May Not Pick, Tempt

Roses I may not pick, tempt
With their sweet
Scent.
The peach,
Out of reach
I may not eat
For mine
Wine
Has passed its best.
But, in time
All things must rest.
The hour
Of the flower
And peach, is brief,
And all must, one day cease

Eternal Youth

‘Tis a truth
Profound
That eternal youth
Can not be found
By middle-aged men who pursue
Girls of 20,
(But there are plenty
Who do).

The run
May be fun
And rings
And other such things
May a man buy
More than a look
From a young girl’s eye,
Which is sometimes mistook
By the old
For love.

Nothing comes after
Her brittle laughter
Save for more
Of the same, but the fool will not be told
The truth,
That with all his gold
He can not purchase eternal youth,
Though some already this fact
Know
But act
As though
It where not so
And continue to buy
Forced laughter
After each joke
On which they both, secretly, choke.

Pass

When old men make a pass
At the youthful lass,
I wonder whether
Either party ever
Look in the glass
And think, “all this will, one day, pass”

Nymphs will play
And hair turn to grey.
The woman (once girl)
Seeing autumn leaves whirl,
May consider the youthful lass,
And think, “all things must, one day, pass”.