When You are Old and Grey

The world exists, in shades of grey

You dance in colour, black roses decay.

For in their red, jealousy bleeds

Till their beauty be run, by your feet.

The oak tree so brown, now a weeping willow

In the autumn of envy, leaves no more green.

The sun is beside me, sickly and pale

The moon red with anger, to covet each day.

Suitors aplenty, robed and silver clad

The poets all silent, inspiration is dead.

Beauty is too easy, so they throw love your way

I wait in teary rains, till you are old and grey.

Though the world may break me,

I shall break me not.

I may lie ruined, clasping at your thoughts

But love keeps me noble, when nobility I am not.

They will dance with you, whilst you are supple

And kiss tender lips, soft to the touch.

When your taste is sweet, and your womb fertile

They will love you, as they ought.

I want not picture, nor your prose

But only a promise, a simple heart’s words.

To these I shall cling, until you are old

When they want you no more, I shall unfold.

When the wind is no more, than a summer’s breeze

A welcome respite, puts lovers at ease.

In the passion of youth, shall you be theirs

When beauty is all you posses, in innocent years.

I shall sit whilst gales howl, and drown out my heart’s screams

In a solitude of hope, wait and dream.

Heroes too man, valour too few

True love is to suffer, only martyrs knew.

To give without exception, when they lie with you

By candle-light windows, painful silhouettes of images blue.

Dark clouds descend, on the brightest of rays

I sit in puddles, through your summer days.

Losing to all, that are not me

Most painful of all, is but losing thee.

But now you are young, in heaven’s gardens you bloom

So they all come, to pick the petals from you.

I wait an eternity, for the day

When I shall have but your stem, when you are old and grey.

I have read great poems, picked out for you

But you care not for poetry, in your youth.

You lust for adventure, upon grand ships you sail

I have but the ocean’s waves, at which to stare.

By sea shores I pick shells, when for pearls you long

I cannot fight truth, I do not belong.

But with time, I have struck an accord

And for a fate, have sold a soul.

It matters not, for pride went before

When looking for love, be not clothed.

So I wait in agony, all alone

Breaking each day, but refusing to grow old.

Therefore see me not, let them all have their turns

Find yourself, if for yourself you yearn.

When the clock unwinds, its hands shall I clasp

Your beauty is gone, my hour at last.

With bare feet broken, shall I traverse your heart to claim

The little girl I once knew, when you are old and grey.

By Haemophiliac…

...finished 08/07/06 – 8 July 2006