David McLansky

(5/24/1944 / New York City)

Shakespeare in Love


To me my beauty you never shall be old,
Though Time shall scourge your fragile shield of flesh;
I balm those wounds as Time's cruel lash does scold,
And heal his welts, your loveliness refreshed;
For in my love are herbs of powers rare
Restoring as harsh Time does take away,
My eyes, your mirror, chastening your despair,
Reflecting forth you've aged not yet a day;
Take comfort then within this frame of youth:
You radiate impervious to decay;
Wise Men well know this immortal truth:
Time captures not true lovers in its sway;
Your beauty is the kindness of your soul,
And goodness ages not as Time unfolds.

Submitted: Tuesday, November 20, 2012
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