Happy Valentine’s Day to all!
A poem that I wrote a year ago in response to this day.
What is it about the human mind that,
even on this day–of all days–
it cannot fathom that the older among us,
also need love?
Would it surprise, perhaps shock, the radio host–
who suggested that only young women suffer in love–
to learn that the mature do as well?
Perhaps, suffer even more.
When does longing go away?
At twenty-eight when laugh lines first appear and the
skin subtly begins to thin? At forty, childbearing,
for most, long ended? At fifty-something, bleeding–thank God–
halted? Or, at fifty-eight, encroaching on one’s sixties,
that time when we slide, as if by some dark magic,
into older adults, seniors, wise elders, the aged?
One can laugh off, in certain moods, the naivety.
Today when I long for you body and soul, and search for
the curve of your shoulders, the press of your skin against mine,
the muscle of your thighs.
When I look at you and see in the depth of your eyes
the man I first met, when I look at myself and see the intelligence
in my blue eye, the warmth of my reddened lips.
Then, I see us. Us as we’ve always been.
There is no end to love!
Nor to lust, love’s trouble-maker step-sibling.
This truth, today, let’s keep as our secret, our hidden theme.
To be expanded on and explored, at our leisure,
behind curtained windows, and doors shut tight.