"Old enough to be
your father!" Yes,
I play the cliche out
with wry surprise
at my anxiety
for her response,
but, with peculiar
brightness in her eyes,
she sits up straight
in my heat-crumpled bed,
then bends and kisses.
"Young enough to be
my child," she whispers,
"and, of love, my lover!"
moving upon me
ancient as the sea.
The reviewing period for this story has ended. |