Mantra has been throwing mothballs from her lantern. She ejected this one twice this week in reference to conversations on which she has eavesdopped.
Aging is a part of life we either accept or fight will all our power. Occasionally, the body fails to uphold our wishes, but equally often our willpower is the defector.
While few consider the loss of attraction and desire a casualty of time, more often than not intimate contact is deemed far less important than the myriad other appointments with which we fill our overstuffed calendars. We simply choose to discount the power inherent in celebrating life with heartfelt caresses, passionate kisses and sex.
Mantra says, “Bah.” In Youth, she brings you an idea you may just want to give a whirl.
I don’t remember being young.
Others speak of carefree laughter,
But my mind’s awash with something.
An acute punctuality,
Stark and lonely reality.
I’ve learned enough to want and yearn
For the selfish and wanton whims
Of the youth I can’t remember.
A heady sensuality,
Dreams nothing more than fantasy,
Even sitting in broad daylight,
In touch with youthful ecstasy.
No more adult complexity.
An alternate reality.
Where my body responds to touch,
Sight, sound and taste of touching skin.
The feel of youth rediscovered.
If you have Mate, give an unexpected touch. Let Mate know you still remember. Have a wonderful evening.
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If you have enjoyed this poem, you may enjoy the others from Mantra’s Book of Shadows.
© Red Dwyer 2013
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