we two are old
pleated by cares
but still can mount
proud passion's stair
and if we pause
to catch our breath
at stations preceding
'the little death'
are not made sad
at these reductions
but use them to polish
our imperfections
continuing then
from whence we came
for old grows warm
by lack of shame.
Brian Purdy
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/for-kati/
