Judge me not, dear lady,
By wrinkled skin and hair of gray,
For sometime,
Long before I came this way,

I was a youth,
And, if be told in truth,
Such bawdy, brawling fellow ne'er
Walked earth nor turned to stare,
At passing maid so fair.

Oh, yes, grandfather now,
The wrinkles on my brow,
Speaking loud against,
The true way my youth was spent.

The supermarket clerk, she smiles so sweet,
At the kind old man.
Oh! She will never meet,
That young man with lass upon each arm,
Succumbing to their lures, not fearing any harm.

No, young soft and curving girl
You know nothing of the world
That has brought this old man in your way
The few gray hairs he has left today.

Though halt and lame with Arthritis' pains
How much I'd love to leap upon,
The horses, boats and planes and trains,
That stopped a moment, and
Beckoned me in silent plea.

"Somewhere adventure waits.
Get on.
We must soon be gone."

There is one train left for me to board,
But it has not reached my station yet.
And if I were a betting man, and
Yes! I AM. You bet.
I know I'll have another round
Of time within the arms
And 'gainst the panting breast,
Of some young lass who wondered how,
Came the gleam in fading eye,
Beneath that wrinkled brow.

2/15/2015 By Donovan Baldwin

About The Author
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Donovan Baldwin is a Dallas area poet and author of many articles published online. A University Of West Florida alumnus (1973) with a BA in accounting, he is a past member of Mensa and has held several managerial positions. After retiring from the U. S. Army in 1995, he became interested in internet marketing and developed various online businesses. He has been writing poetry, articles, and essays for over 40 years, and now frequently publishes articles on his own websites and for use by other webmasters. He has a blog on poetry and writing at https://ravensong-poetry.blogspot.com/.

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