What really can be said? One heart so young

Meets a fool’s too old to know any better

And the concoction bubbles on the tongue

For a time, as heady drunks unfetter

Inhibitions they kept in cold reserve

For so long.  Now songs and poems fly free

From hearts of stone that crumble when they serve

Up the morsels of love that long to be

As chaff to the winds of liberation   

And he, dreaming his sweet deliverance

Begins to applaud in celebration

Until the morning she wakes up, perchance

To see his gray hair will not go away

And hers will only turn so should she stay

06/29/2003