Clocks wind like a spell
And aging minds can’t tell
how time steals from you
youth’s tender dew
Autumn falls bold as a stone
for butterflies to etiolate, time-worn
Health weeps like a widowed crone
She goes fleshless to the bone
You realise the last crest
was the wave’s unrepeatable best
It then takes slow ebbs
to moon-death’s biceps
But laughter can call the shots
Young hearts’ fuel in aging pots
That’s the music playing alright
For the waltzing till midnight
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