Suffering Septuagenerity

October by

Soon I shall see my seventies

No siren shall sidle

Seductively

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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