Aged Love

A poem about an older woman remembering what it was like to be young and in love.

A sort of gentle comfort that brings with it a flood of recollections, 

The delicate brushing away of a single tendril of hair 

From an ivory skinned girl with a cupid’s bow and complexion of pale snow 

From sleepless nights spent enthralled in each other’s magnetism, a force field of infallibility, 

deeming nor one nor the other a fallen angel

But a saint of ardor

And just as the morning light seeps quietly through the floorboards, that moment of final ecstasy 

Of fluttering eyelids and last minute tumblings 

Dissolves into a certain mellowness, a fond, faraway look in the eyes of a gray haired maiden 

that can only be described as 

Aged love

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

I like the term "a saint of ardor." I don't know if anyone ever considered me in that way, but it's nice to pretend. It can be pleasant to look back fondly on being young and in love, as long as you can screen out the demands, the accusations and the unrealistic expectations. Romantic love is a drug.

[Lea525]

Hi John!
Your response left me pondering for a bit actually. Is there a way to 'love more responsibly' when your young knowing all that you know as someone who's been through it all?

[John the Baptist]

When it comes down to it, youth is a time of learning. The pros and cons of relationships during that period, seen rightly, are pathways to growth.