If you are not a beautiful creature
Is there love for you?
When the world appears bewitched by youth and eternal moment’s boiled to infuse
Who shall love?
Who shall love?
The imperfect and technically “past it”
When beautiful felt like;
The sound of heals clicking on marble
Then slippers
Then bare feet
Then silence
No attention for a certain shape, age, gaze
Consolation crows, grow your mind
Crack jokes
Have a sense of humor
Laugh at yourself.
Long before, boys fell in love with me first;
Because of an hourglass
A firmness
A tightness
A willingness
The measure of hips
And then later, aserbic wit
I say ignore the rules
Climb trees at sixty, chomping on cigar
Wear polkadots, rolling dice on roof tops
Make love in bramble hedges and countertops
We talk of politics and deep sea diving, the need for conscience, passion and chocolate biscuits
You didn’t need a perfect pair of legs or a tiny waist
Eventually you wanted a woman of four seasons
Who couldn’t hold her alcohol anymore and streaked across the lawn
A girl of seventy and four, mayflies buzzing in our ears
Who still beat you at arm wrestling and sang like an angel with grey hair
Opening her robe to your eager devour
For once upon, you were a youthful coward, chasing empty smiles
And now you lay in a woman’s arms marveling at her lines
The black and blue, and those she fought hard for, birthing children
Crossing her face like stars
More beautiful for their dance
On skin long past its prime and so fine
For a constellation is music over time
Then and only then, love breathes eternal