Suffering Septuagenerity

October by

Soon I shall see my seventies

No siren shall sidle


Up to this soul

Slipping shyly, somewhat sheepishly

Towards septuagenerity

Sequentially seedier at each sunset

Still suffering in servitude to sexuality….until

Even swollen similes

Shall surely, steadily subside,

Settle to stillness

As certainly he shall himself

Someday or soon


But….I merely play with ‘s’

Alliterating to excess

Could I find love with my pen?

And…do I want love again?

I’ve love…of a subtler sort

Than that of a sweet consort


Friendship’s kind consideration

Blessedly absent adoration

One more delusion out the door

What did I ever need it for?

Though, in fairness

‘Twas a joy

I was a very lucky boy


Should I lament

No other ear

Will be in range

To care or hear

Nothing to cause me

To sustain

Self-pity in some style

Or vein


None with whom to fight or fuss

A mere passenger on the bus

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