78. She Is Thirty, I’m Sixty
She is thirty, I’m sixty,
A world of thirty is between us;
She is a just blossoming flower,
I’m the withering dried fruit.
She is sweet, golden nectar,
I’m hard, fibrous to taste;
She is luscious, lustrous to sight,
I’m dull, dark shadow of the past.
She is sparkling golden sunshine,