Toy Boys.
by
Orange Blossom
He was eight and I was ten,
(what is it with me and younger men?)
Holding hands as we walked to school
he carried my books. Well, I'm no fool.
Playing kiss chase in the street
(I never was fast on my feet)
on this one thing we'd both agree -
we made quite sure that he caught me.
The end of loving came the day
that he and his family moved away
to Canada, and pastures new,
and never wrote to me, boo hoo.
My granny told me, "Never mind
there's other boys for you to find."
Well, maybe she was right, you know?
I've still got younger men in tow!
My first lover - I was older,
but he certainly was bolder.
Now it's happening again
I'm attracting younger men.
Yet I need to add a rider:
now the gap is even wider!
At my age I'm no spring chicken
how do I make pulses quicken?
Pulses owned by, I may add,
men of forty. That's not bad
for someone who's now fifty seven.
Have I died and gone to heaven?
One is only thirty-five;
pinch me, am I still alive?
I don't know, it's very strange.
Someday it will doubtless change;
when I'm really old and grey
and my dreams all fade away.
So I'll enjoy it while I can.
Three cheers for the younger man!
Nov 2001
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