Springs heat- not but a dying ember

 
Shades of green fill the air. and all around.
In bright blue skies, seen, shadows crawl the ground.
Spring fever no longer seems to melt
away winters chill- all that is felt.
 
Buds do open and they do flower.
Aged, never seems to find the hour.
 
Seasons have passed us by.
Little is left, but for us to try.
Wipe the moisture from our eye.
No longer sit back and cry
 
Ah !, if only the goddess Aphrodite,
could spread her mystic reality ?
 
If only she’d sprinkle her sensual, passionate powers
upon the souls of us Ancient One’s, remaining hours.
Upon occasion, arise, know no finality
as life, upon us showers inevitability.
 
Love, passion aplenty, by the ton.
To know – once again – all that fun.
 
All that passion, that youthful beauty.
Oh, to know - in depth – a little cutety.
Oh, to know once again that our seeds
– buried deep – could germinate, fill needs.
 
Crawl out of the ground, reach out, touch,
permeate those heavenly bodies, feel so much.

About what fertilized our flowering
as we stood tall, towering
over life that made us a whole lot richer then,
during those blossoming years - younger men.
 
No longer, yet, no more empty then before
even as time begins to close the door.
 
So my Beauties, thank you all, for the all
you gave to make this garden grow – before the fall -,
before experience, life, fate, age made the call
that brings life to that last walk down the hall.
 
That hall of mirrors reflecting life – glorious –
in its all as we look into it – wondrous.
 
B. J. “A” 2
May 15^th 2004