Closer

When will it be

that she sees

the shock of the old?

When will she stop in her tracks,

stop her breath,

and take charge of my feelings,

so that I’m not hurt by more

than the passing of time?

No time soon.

She marauds over me

like terrain to be conquered.

My arms are limbs to swing from,

my legs and back juts and jags

of rock and granite to be scaled

and hammered. My head

a peak to stand atop

to command her domain.

She sets her feet on me

trusting the ground won’t give way.

There is no discussion or greeting,

no approach, no preamble –

I am a cliff face up which to scramble.

Ageless and eternal, forever there,

how could I not repay the compliment

by standing tall as the sky,

like a caveman trying to reach the sun.