In tandem with fading innocence
The years swing by
A tooth falls out here,a tooth is
lost there
Living becomes a simmering Death
My back welcoming it
An inch lower every year
Till sticks which used to burn in the hearth
Of my glory days
Turn into crutches faithfully supporting
My frame
I feign forgetfulness
But my mind is fooled not
Would my ebon shimmer
My hips sway with every step?
Would these young men
Who rush to give me way
Pray to have their way?
If the end was the beginning
how young would I be?
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