Senior Citizen’s Lament

 

                    Varicose veined, she swings her arthritic hips,

                    Evoking the erotic scent of bygone days,

                    Now locked in the secret diary of her past.

                    Reminiscent of the grace of yesterday,

                    Nostalgia–like,she lifts her marcelled blue grey head,

                    Her heart, now medicare protected, beats faintly,

                    As she plucks a blossom to her faded breast.

                    Rustling bed sheets, iron starched, whisper regrets,

                    Speak softly, of what might have been,

                    On an earlier four poster bed.

                    Her eyes, still young, would speak to me,

                    In withered mask of skin deep beauty gone,

                    Of that other time, when our eyes met,

                    Through the cracked mirror, of a crowded singles bar,

                    Many years ago.