PRIME TIME: A POEM FOR OLD VALENTINES

We're growing older, Darling,
And our clothes are shrink-fit tight;
Dame Gravity is tugging at our skins.
And she won't give up the fight,
Though we struggle with our might,
Til our bellies have slid down to our shins.

But despite the surface rust,
The sinews of our souls have
Grown stronger as we've pressed the weights of Time.
We've grown more aware of living,
And a lot more self-forgiving,
As the lean of youth has mellowed into prime.

Oh, who can miss the summer
In these blazing days of autumn,
When we reap the fruits we planted long ago;
When our spirits pick up rhythm,
And the home fires burn so brightly,
Bathing we who bask around it in the glow.

---Rose Moore to Bob, Valentine's Day 1992*