I trace these dear lines of old age

I’d like to lie beside you,

so we’d be face to face.

Then we could, at last. enjoy

A sweet  visual embrace

Then I take my fingers

way across your brow;

my fingers  linger on your lips-

somewhere,somehow.

.
I trace these dear  lines of old age

which wander round your eyes.

I run my fingers down your nose.

My touch is satisfied.

I’d like to trace your smiling lips.

that look so fine and strong.

With my  own pink finger tips.

Would you think  me wrong?

I’d like to boil your hankies

In an ancient pan

On a big coal fire..

Though the coal fires are long gone.

I’d like to rest my curly head

Upon your bony chest

I’ll test your antiperspirant

And the whiteness of your vest.

I’ll treat you very tenderly

and keep you free of dirt

For as they  used to say one time:

Oh,how real loving hurts!