Beware, pretty young maidens,
father figures of grey;
growing younger, not older,
strong and tauter each day.
While Wilde Gray paintings age and crack,
portraying stolen years from way, way back.
Our memory with home truths is stung:
Precious youth is wasted on the young.
Silkily sap your girlhood,
beauty, health, poise and grace.
Their boyishness reflecting
your young years in their face.
After all is exuded:
Bled dry, withered and used.
Still hungered they’ll leave you
a widow of your youth.
©24.1.2011 Andrew Robert Chapman