Take Me Back To the Tryst

Take me back to the tryst Love of ages is not my taste Does stale love toast or fondle? But toast is the soul of love: When words summon words Mirrorring the pumping heart. Take me back to the tryst Age is wear and tear of love, Gravity on the wings of amity Just back to the tryst Where love floats on bouyancy of fond. Love: youngest fruit on okoro tree Easy shred , easy grate The younger the sweeter No , the soup of love sours not The very minute it is cooked. I say back to the tryst There is no diminution in tenderness But love decays with years and age When earlier charm becomes stale or fade. Take me back to tryst Love of ages is not my taste.