it makes the youngsters shrill with fun;
a will rekindling back my whiles
to younger years, and frowning won
all but the guiltless child who will,
before he turns to night, have smiles
that shy away from meeting nil,
made shyer with some sixty summers sun.
when pollens perfume with the wind,
our minds and chests of fleeting loom
may meet them sweetly, frowning twinned
by weeks unstirred, to cause the push
of putrid petals caught to shush
the tearful twins inside the womb,
made sadder with some sixty summers wind.
possessed of cold, we will live stark
‘til every laugh will end unmade
by lungs in labour; coughing cost,
and paintings of the past will fade
- the flame between the fires lost -
a blame that dried into a dark,
made darker with some sixty summers blame.
Sean Godley
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-tearful-twins-inside-the-womb/
