Are We Aging, My Love?

September 22, 2017

At the ophthalmologist, today

you face demons

born of the dreaded forties

A plus one correction

heralds your slow mortal march

Even your strongest steel toed boots 

screeching against ages' asphalt 

cannot halt it

And I with my cylinders and google eyes

Welcome you to the club

Of bodily imperfections, my love 

Each day we pluck white hairs

One in six now

-Solemnly we take

a full accounting from our errant scalps

And if I look at you slyly

as you eat a bowl of too- much- carb spaghetti

with frowning concentration-

Your eyes have delicate bunches

Of veins at the corners

Flat paned against skin windows

Asking for a reprieve, to pulsate

Green- green- blue- green 

-Create foamy wrinkles that crinkle 

when you smile, and look up 

My love, the skies’ grey 

to match your mood today 

You don your shades

Hades shades- Stygian

Darker than my raven- black dreams

They hide your insides from my prying gaze

Hades shades- take you far away 

To a place 

of washboard abs, mountains crested

careless smiles, broken hearts 

easily mended 

An uncaring id that wouldn't believe 

the delectation you receive 

from evenings spent cuddling a baby in a recliner 

and early nights by my side- 

my love.

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