He looked into my eyes, through to my want of soul
He knew I desired him but at what cost, what toll?
His beauty of youth so obvious, not to be denied
But morality’s grasp did, our chance to love, belie
Age, the discriminator to each living life
Through its passage, experienced, is much emotional strife
It need not be this way, it makes no common sense
For often and, most certain, it’s to our own expense
We struggle to retain our vibrancy of youth
But each reflective glance, garners the harsher of truth
As each year moves closer toward an unavoidable, death end
It leaves the want to be old and living , harder to defend
Beauty, it’s said, is bestowed to the eye of the beholder
But not if such beauty is found of one young by one older
Attraction should not be defined by the measure of time’s passage
But by the degree loving hearts become emotionally ravaged
To look into the wanting eyes of one’s youthful admirer
Full of innocence and want to fulfill a yearning desire
Ignorant to the morality of adult guilt self impose
Blind to the consequence that yields such advances forever closed.
naykdpoet 