Soft the vulnerable caress
Which parts Night’s lips in tender lullaby
Words pour forth, singing Day to sleep
meet the starch of age.
Your blush now comes from a bottle.
Fallen arches and brittle bones
wave farewell to the seamless beauty
the lithe and supple grace
in looking-glass of old.
Don’t trade wisdom for agility,
or experience for smooth skin.
Embrace the wrinkles
that stamp Life into features;
name gray hairs
Maturity and Character.
As your last sun sets,
When your light rises again,
your skin will be fresh and new.
Your legs will be strong,
your steps sure.
Wait, my friend.
Your day is coming.
Trees put on their nightgowns and nod their heads in rest;
Sleepy river slows its pace, in tranquil stillness dressed.
Sky relinquishes its light, and dons a sober air;
Clouds are wrapped in bedclothes, adopting night-time stare.
Shadows stir and start their prowl as traffic lights cast glows;
Twinkling lampposts stretch and yawn and grab their party clothes.
Moon awakes, and with a grin, takes his night-owl perch;
A role-reversal supervised by watchful eye of Church.