To him-

To him-

Old man, you ain’t (if ever your were) test
ament to testosteronicity!
A maze of years have palsied your frame,
tattooed your face with their bitter passing,
sucked your juices near dry. Yet, your eyes
still own wonder, and seraphim sing, still,
in your smile.

Timeworn beyond rowdy indecencies,
no less ancient of years, or less weary,
I tremble from the roots at your touch
and fires long banked incinerate again
till I flame with a hungry agony.
Old man, you remain my soul’s nirvana.

March, 2001

 

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About elrondsilvermaul

I never know what to say about myself. I let what I write try to speak as to who I am. I can only add, here, that I am 72, live in a nursing home, am twenty years a cancer survivor, and identify as a gay male. I intend to use this blog as storage for poems? written over the long years (and still being written). This does not preclude other uses.
This entry was posted in Poetry ? and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to To him-

  1. PennyD says:

    deep, my dear, deep. I wish I had your tongue. And that’s not tongue in a salacious way, oh, you know what I mean.

    Like

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