Once he was a pretty boy
And a lover of things so fine
A lover of life—good food, good wine.
Perfection held allure but he kept an open mind
Regarding flaws, after all he was always lame–
Little lame loverboy—other beauty might be the same.
He kept an open heart and then he fell in love
Parties and travel took the place of family
And so he sailed with his discerning eye
Through their storms and tranquility.

Then those loved ones began to die.
First it was the old, then those closest to him,
And then the friends.  The plague, old age…
It didn’t matter when they left him and went away.
One day he looked in the mirror and like all around him,
He’d gone gray.

Monthly, now, he feels his dwindling wealth
And detests the flaw which is nothing but an old pain
In a history of old pains. Now surrounded by life,
He dreams of death.

© Gay Reiser Cannon. All Rights Reserved



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