Poem I wrote one lunchtime last week, hopefully self-explanatory.
Forbidden Fruits
Today as I was walking through the city
I was struck by the total hotness
Of the young girls walking up and down
In their late teens, early twenties
The time nature brings it all together
Into a moment of fleeting perfection
Like flowers bursting from buds
So beautiful you almost want to weep
I am old enough to be their father
Maybe even grandfather, shock horror
Does that mean I should feel guilty
About finding them beautiful?
They seemed to me as lovely and life-affirming
As Mendelssohn’s Octet
The first time ever I heard it
Though my hearing has since dimmed
My appreciation of Mendelssohn hasn’t
by 