adventures in dysthymia

Tuesday, October 05, 2004

WRINKLE

The story of our love must be
written very large and bold,
for I find as I grow old
I haven't always my glasses with me.

I loved your kisses, never doubt,
when we were passionate and young
but now be careful with that tongue
as my teeth tend to come out.

Forgive me, should I leave your embrace
because I need must run and tinkle;
though age gives love a brand new wrinkle,
I find yours still the fairest face.

Stephen Brooke ©2004

1 comment:

Sherrie said...

You can write with such humor!
I enjoy reading your blog, Steve.