Age

Age

They say maturity
Comes with time
And experience,
But age comes like
A thief in the night
Or an uninvited guest,
Unwelcome and unwanted,
Using up your resources,
And stealing your most
Precious possessions.

Of all the things age
Has stolen from me,
I miss desire the most.
I miss the longing
In a lover’s eyes
And the gentle caress
Of his touch.
I miss feeling his
Urgent need
And watching his
Patient control
As he brings my need
In sync with his own.

Age then lingers on
Turning life into
Long, sleepless nights
And lonely unending days
When your only companions
Are nostalgia and regret,
Bringing painful memories
Tumbling unbidden down
The broken staircase
Of your life—
A squatter on what little
Land you have left,
Unwilling to leave until
It is dispossessed
By death.