If We Met Again

I sometimes wonder
Would it still be there
If we met again?
The fire
The can't keep their hands off one another
That drove the relationship
When we were young and careless?

Or would we each be repelled
By the flab the wrinkles
The stolid habit-ridden lack of sparkle
Of our aging selves

Or is there something there
That wasn't sex the senses flesh
And is there something still
That is a flame a passion
A kinship a burning affinity
That kindles regardless
Of age of change of pensionability
An eternal youth in a cage of wrinkles?

by Roger Hudson

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