Young Breasts Ageing Poem by Bill Grace

Half century or so ago she wanted to be an architect,
I wanted to be President
Bright sun, an invitation to massage, she was a strawberry blond with the clear skin and the private room.

We slept together once but it is well we did not marry
She could not tolerate the snoring of a courtship night
Let alone the presures that would have come from a maverick's life.

She has gone on to greater things than death defying buildings
And just as I have lost my hair I can not help but think
Of the young woman who favored me once
With the beauty of those young breasts now ageing
Who I am protective of to this very line.