On a rock called ages,
Lie torn and windswept pages,
We were in the flower of our youth.
Children playing grown up games,
Primal essence, chemical flames,
Then she was with child.
So footloose and naively free,
Shattered mirrors, cupids knee,
Responsibility became me.
The Norwegian princess held court,
Silent deliberation summoned a retort,
So practical; she was a realist.
Decisions loom the fabric of time,
That ones hers, this one mine,
Yesterday’s opportunity; tomorrows regret.
Her mind games left me luke warm,
I had options; hers was a storm,
What’s in fashion? O scorn of passion!
Ten years hence, a moonlit bay,
She–– another’s wife, urged me to stay,
Her taste; surreal, but her love I wouldn’t steal.
Now years and miles apart,
A Christmas card to warm the heart,
A genetic tribe smiles from a sanctuary.
Loves tender moments now faded,
My promise lies spent or traded,
One could only wonder.
If she would have said; I do,
Then bore me a son or maybe two,
Thy name could live on.
But lo–– I am the last to bear the cross,
Middle- aged line, shant I ever toss,
Perhaps it was natural selection, a.k.a. woman’s instinct.