bout de papier, Vol. 6, No. 3 (1988), p. 40
Everyone’s looking older
except me.
My eyes still flash
with brilliance;
energy, excitement, both remain;
passion as well.
Blood that coursed and raged within my veins
still flames as wildly —
now and then.
Children call me “Sir”now
show respect.
Hairline’s not receded
all that much,
and silver temples add distinction.
Generous stomach
evidence of frequent business lunches
adds importance
“gravitas”.
Image in my mind’s eye
does not match
broad-beamed, thickening figure
in my mirror,
but it’s recognizable, at least,
by it’s humour.
Face it, my ample callipygic friend
The Curse is on you —
Middle Age.
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Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 6, No. 3 (1988), p. 40. Read the rest of this issue →
