At a progressing maturity of age
The artist takes to berries and
Red wine at times
To feed his glowing furnace of life
And to stoke the lowered flames
Of passion.
He notices the growing numbers
Of lonely women
Seeking love and companionship
Yet selection seems cumbersome
No longer bound to incidents of
Chance.
Since sometime he had been
Searching for his first love –
First for them both and remaining
Something he did neither forget
Nor feeling it been finished
So hope was still alive to act on
This sweet discovery and his dream
He harboured all his life.
Having lost his possessions
Ignored in his profession
His place of birth did not keep
His driver’s license records
He felt abandoned and then
Fell back on new friends and
A love his past Muse promised
To send to him.
Voila. Keep alert. She said.
Be prepared and be quick.
He rather took his time.
And now?
zoltanzelan
ZJG-POetry’18.
