I saw the age seeping out of you
like blood red wine, once vintage
and in demand but now, past
its prime and stinging of
acidity and sour maturity.

Less than gracefully, you stumbled,
struggling to recover balance
as the world discovered your
fragility, hidden for so long
under the muscle of hard labour.

Your lips deceived you, this night -
an intermission between thinking and speaking -
and the fragments of your weathered spirit
fell sporadically - a syncopated melody
of diminished capacity.

We caught time in our hands
for an unmeasured moment,
holding the caterpillar of
months and years in cupped palms.

But, as with all metamorphoses,
the winged seconds escaped us,
flitting off through openings
framed by white knuckles that
struggled to hold onto
the exhale of glory days and youth.

In these hours before midnight
I watch you sink back into yourself,
remembering what it means
to feel the creak of bones
and twinge of nerve endings.

And I wonder if you knew yesterday,
that we only have one chance at today...

make it last, make it last,
take
me
last.

12/01/2003

Author's Note: There is something missing in this one and eventually I will make it whole. For now, this will have to do.

Posted on 11/30/2003
Copyright © 2024 Karen Michelle