In Afterthought Poem by Barry Van Asten

There is a certain mood of mind
In which the fount of youth, flows through
The stunning sacredness of you...
Met inescapably, I find:
Lit with lip-gloss and eyes of blue,
And all your beauty re-defined.

But somewhere deep there is this bliss;
This ache of madness that takes hold
To rush senseless through brain, and fold
My aged frame, dreary, to your kiss...
The years fall, I'm wrapped in your gold
Sun-lit hair and your loveliness!

I brood in darkness and regret...
Suffering of sacrament, kept
In a small place, where I have wept -
The nonsense of two hearts, not met.
I give no name to this love, swept
Through the stone of my soul, that's set

In Kingdoms ruled by passions bent:
I give idle dreams wings to flee
Down the byways of history;
Lips locked in sweetness, sealed and sent:
I do not see strange things in me,
Just this passion of discontent!