you protest it is ludicrous, being our age
after so many years together that
I find you intensely alluring
utterly fascinating and
so passionately desirable
“but I’m old” you protest,
dropping your china blue satin robe
in our candle lit hotel room, glaring your challenge
“look at me damn it, just look!”
I do, and take you in my ropey old arms,
gently stroking your lovely grey hair,
being so grateful that such a beauty as you
would love an old train wreck like me.

by-Doug Mathewson