“Most men would agree that an aging woman is like vintage wine to a few thirsting souls, but more like stale ale to men who prefer a fresher brew.”
A May/December Tryst
As I gaze at the trees so scantily clad,
I wondered if springtime would make me less sad...
Could a flowering bud erase any pain?
While memories evoked an image of rain...
Like a gentle caress it fell to the Earth,
Awakening the trees from their frost-bitten berth,
It was spring but a year that our paths intersected,
And a flame in his eyes left me quite unprotected,
It wasn't his fault that our steps couldn't rhyme,
The rhythms we breathed, syncopated by time...
For the years between us I dared not have spoken,
And the vow that I'd made would never be broken...
As spring turned to summer my thoughts were on him,
From daybreak to dusk, he captured each whim...
That hinged in my mind, like a dove's lonely call,
Or a haunting refrain...summer drifted to fall,
And that joy that took flight from the wings of my soul,
Dissolved into grief as my sin took its toll,
By winter’s arrival my love would depart,
Leaving crystalline frost in place of my heart,
But deep in that place where the scars had been laid,
I'm glad for the pain that knowing him made...
As the coming of spring brings a promise of birth,
I'll smile through my tears, as the sun warms the Earth.
Posted by Maryanne