Love in Old Age
Reflections on my twilight yearsI pray you, do not trample on my dreams. Though you may only see this outer shell, A frail thing of flesh; this outward reality, Is of no greater substance than the air,Masking the real truth that lies withinFrom the unperceptive gaze of the world,Blinded by the harsh glare of common sense. Outwardly I may be on the dread pathThat leads to mortal decay and old age,My limbs may now be clothed in sagging flesh, Where in my...