Moved farther still from youth
I feel your touch to hinder me.
Am I then so far on
That you are able now to show
The changes of the flesh
And find melancholy echoes in my song?

The ebbing sap, the falling leaf
Are symbols to my loosening heart
Of tunes I haven’t sung.
Tempting still are time’s ideals of
Youth and as you come
I note the spring in faces I’m among.

I lose the modern touch
And words that once were foreign catch
My soul. Ideals are hung
For acceptance of your good grace
Yet colours whirl my head
To sleep and dreams that I’m still young

Written by Jackie Wearing - first published on openwriting.com, November 1, 2005