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The Circle of Life

He’s such a nice bloke
Such a good and true friend
Like a favourite uncle
Whose ear you can bend
He’ll be there when you need him
He gives all he can
A supportive word
A warm and calm hand
In a dark, single room
He sits quietly
In the limbo of his wrinkles
He sips on his tea
His mirror tells him
That vain youth has gone
While behind his eyes, imprisoned
That youth still looks on
No switch got flipped
When grey hairs appeared
Tenderness yearnings
Don’t vanish with years
Fear of revulsion
Of a heart misunderstood
If only youth knew
If only age could
A one-way street now
And needs all forsaken
Now youth is untouchable
And peers all taken
So, who calms his soul?
Who takes his hand?
Who cradles his head?
Who understands?
Who strokes his skin
When passion takes over?
Who would not flinch
To take him as their lover?
With yearnings locked down
He does good where he can
While he feels in his mind
Like a dirty old man
So, in a dark, single room
He sits quietly
Avoiding the mirror
Alone with his tea.

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