Beautiful is the flesh of 20
leaning its lush warmth on 40,
who wants undyingly to believe
in spring and the renaissance
that youthful love can bring.
O! beautiful is a young thing.

Life's blank contract promises plenty
but delivers a little too late.
Panicked by the hour, aching loins
race to bed, desperate to mate before
a touch of dread and impotence
desex the carnal act.

Like a swig of gin, the pliable skin
of 20 is a heady, fleeting
medicine, a beautiful, fleshly
bride....Better than a mirror,
whose wrinkles presage doom,
20 promises endless bloom.