Not quite a life-misadventure
but a bit of misfortune, yet
just as well that we cannot foresee
the future; that in the spring of youth
young men transfixed by the nubile
freshness and beguiling beauty of
the young woman with the
dark, soft eyes and lovely
encircling arms may become
by chance, a large and ailing
patient, bound to a wheelchair,
utterly dependent on the inadequate
physical strength of her similarly
aged, not quite so ailing husband.
For both of whom the other still
represents beauty, grace and
boundless love, absent youth.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Absent Youth
Labels:
Poetry
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment