A plea for passion in love's later years.
|Ah love! Let not the fires of passion die!
Despite the decades past since first we clasped,
We're still firm of muscle and clear of eye;
The time of our youth has not yet elapsed.
Our beauty is fresh as ever it was
Though threads of gray may garland our temples;
The creak of knees and joints must give us pause
And our faces bear wrinkles, not pimples.
The curve of your hip, the swell of your breast,
The sweet fragrance of your body's perfume
Spark fire in my heart as fervent and fresh
As they did when our spring's flowers first bloomed.
Therefore, let not the fire of love be quenched
Unless in a deluge of passion drenched!