Counsel To Ruth

The tide of time shall stamp its mark on your face Making less fair the stunning charm of your youth, The jealous spell of age shall rob you of your gleam To leave you a mere shadow of the hey-time Ruth. Your well-measured strides shall falter to a careless trot Against the heaviness of legs occasioned by the tear That heartless time inflicts on its blind mortal consumers, Who savor its spiced bits ignorant of its well-calculated wear. Newer beauties will rise from under your old feet To replace your forced exit from the pageant seats, You will look back to reminisce about the cute past And see clearly how time quashes coveted feats. So when younger beauties rise to take your place, Exit without a murmur and let more tender roses Take the place of the crumpled old, and take a photo To show the younger how time crushed your poses.