Save me from getting old
Your fingers forever a sacred chalice
To which my lifeline shall be caught
As I freely let
Unto the fingers that touch me so.
I shall not shy away
From this touch you lay upon
Skin so stretched as leaves turn gold
Save me from getting old.
My shallow scoop has left graceful dents
Upon the eves of my tomorrow;
Pondering a moment here leaves me
Wishing I hadn’t left my tear
So delicately upon your shoulder.
I grew an orchid that cried so softly
When the rhythm of the moon filled
Each crystal chalice with translucent waves
Softly swirling in my hand
Wishing I wasn’t so damn ready.
And as I watched the sun gallop
Over the Eastern horizon from my chair,
I hummed a tune in my favorite key of D
So low it had rumblings of a tumbling dream
Which pressed me between cold sheets for another day to begin.
Silently I stepped out from behind the mirror
Took a moment to reflect, to look back
To think about what had happened unto my demeanor
My wrinkles shone like gemstones
Enlightening my visitors to the challenges I had faced
None, save the unexpecting, could reconcile the past
Not one of my curses could pierce through that thick veil
To snuff out the screaming badges
Leaving dormant Wisemen holding court above chalice’s hold
And I never remembered to drink