Ruth Walters (London, U.K.)
You sped into your mother's womb
rooting in its warm embrace,
you the sperm who won the race.
There you grew, all snug and protected.
until, to the world you were
Your baby buds blossomed
and up you grew,
strong and handsome, all brand new.
You peaked at about twenty two,
you were tall and broad
I fell in love with your manly form,
you were gallant,
brave and dutiful.
At 52 you slowed a little
with half the blink of an eye,
your skin with its youthful morning dew
was a little tired, but it suited you.
And what of 70,
what an age!
Your wisdom goes with you
to the grave.
Your time was
merely a breath
that lasted a moment
and then expired.
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