appraisal

here I sit

in awe of all the goddesses
desirous of a chance
to bask within their essences
as wingtips waft them past
not knowing if this ache I feel
will ever be assuaged
by one or maybe more of them
instead of being dodged
as kindness takes a warmer turn
and lips begin to part
invoking moistened visions
of a place that's hot and dark

here I stand

before the mirror with pretensions
stripped and laid aside
confronted by the lapse of time
encumbered not by pride
and seeing my December is
by several annums past
the May of all the goddesses
whose essences do waft
about and put my head into a spin

here I sit

knowing all advances are
unseemly at their best
and I am self deluded
if intent is more than jest
so I will don this armor
though it's brittle and it's old
and strive to offer kindnesses
instead of being bold
in hopes that on occasion
a stray waft may come my way

© 2016 Frederick Andrew ~ All Rights Reserved