Beauty was once
both your succor
and your poison.
Stinging nettles
still flower,
warding the fox,
but home the rabbit.
Curious as you oppose
yourself at every
march and stumble.
The gaze that once
withered the modicum
falls slate grey.
Youthful countenance as lightning,
flay the skin with just a gaze.
Age disarms the greatest warriors,
takes the edge off the blade.
Those that feared
are mocking glances.
Invitations cease to come.
Power at our fingertips
is gone
when you reach out.
Those who’ve never been
beautiful or statuesque,
will never know
the creeping knives of time,
as they work atrocities.
Beauty born into the world
blossoms in its season,
but those with a long enough vision
can watch the petals fall
from every rose.
Pray you’ve gained you way
to power,
beyond superficial tricks
and manipulations
of lust and insecurities
of men and women.
Hope you have been kind,
so that the world
does not seek
to revenge itself on you;
the beauty
of a season passed.
HG – 2021
