Cloaks Of 23
I want you
but I know you
suspect this already
taking bites of it like
a ripe delicious apple
with those perfect teeth
looking at me
through the bedroom eyes
of nonchalant youth
feasting on admiration
and attention
from us over thirties
who crave in you
our last grasp at the youth
which was once ours;
now consoling ourselves
with work, money or security,
thinking just maybe
you'd swap the latters
for the true love of the
young men who surround you
in their twenties.
Youth never understands
that age
does not abandon its own youth
rather
our older faces relentlessly
cover its relentless
insurgencies smashing our illusions.
So it is not
just you we crave
but our own fading youth
you represent
as we find ourselves meandering down the years
our minds fixed on how we were
at 17 or 23.
The body defeats
ultimately our youthful sense of agelessness
but that is something that can never be explained
to young girls of 23.
In fact if you approached most of us
we would blush and flee
because it is not you we crave
but our own young selves
at 17 and 23-
selves which abandoned us
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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