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I've courted luck, in countless ways
      Against the ragged judgments and self-umbrage
         I still draw breath, and the mirror has been charitable
   Most I meet deem me forty, (I don't challenge)

My visage betrays very little of the darkness and damage within
      Oh, it will one day chase me down, no doubt soon enough
         But I feign my teens in bearing also, and perhaps 'tis a lack of maturity
   I make no false assumptions of grandeur or wisdom

My child's heart thrives and bounds, a lad seeking truths yet proven
      It yearns, still, for a soft meadow's callow passions
         Or the blossom beams of a summer moon, daubing sweet skin
   I hold no kinship to middle-age or frosted brows

'Tis a young man's mad marrow that moves my flesh
      The ambitious vigor of a yearning heart that thrums my chest
         There is NOTHING of my age but the years themselves
   And the altered perspective of being nearer dusk than dawn

My eyes look abaft now more than onward, I must concede that
      And all the myriad priorities of gain and dream and want
         Have dissolved into the one meaningful prerogative of life itself
   The only TRUE worthwhile endeavor that should be the foundation

The solid base that we learn and treasure and build upon from childhood
      The ONLY thing that I've come, through all these years
         Through all these countless lessons and struggles, to care about ...
   That is, quite simply and purely and unmistakably, LOVE.




~ 1st Place ~  in the "A Contest On Aging" Poetry Contest, Emile Pinet, Judge & Sponsor.

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