With elegant grace I defy the lines that Father Time has left on my face though my lover pines to be held by another and such is my disgrace that much of our love that came from heaven above has dissipated into the still air in this Age of despair.
Petulant regrets cloud my joy of sunsets as I knowingly employ all the wiles of women from tears to smiles which eventually quiets my fears of what I petulantly call the passing of years from the womb to the tomb that we all seem to think is life, though end it does in strife.
I see the curse of age explained in verse and rage by the uncouth talents of unwise youth that with heavy sighs begrudge me the respect I'm due though of course it's true the past has taken it's toll on my virtue so fast I could not roll with the punches it threw.
My only point of concern is one day they will learn the devious way time still creeps up in envious display of it's charm as it does them harm as if lines made one wise and bending our spines in the guise of insight into everyone's plight.
Wow... so much truth to this. As I grow older, I still feel the same, though I fear the things you describe here. I found my first gray hairs not too long ago... the signs are in the wake. *sigh* Mother Nature and Father Time...
"She looked at her life like lines, never-ending, constantly forming, reforming and bending."