Those cataracted eyes in that newly old face
Are inwards seeing a different time and place
Where milky lens don't spoil the view
That a mind has kept pristine and new
A field of grass waving and long
With mixed chorus of summer bird song
And orchestra of insects playing away
Giving a background theme to the day
While a pair of crickets sublimely try
To match that skylark climbing high
Pouring forth every liquid note
The crickets follow as if by rote
And my lady sings her own special tune
Echoes of love and lust and moon and June
As we lustily duet to our own intricate plan
The every varying ever same play of woman and man
And you can't understand as you maybe pass by
Because you don't see through that inner eye
But maybe you wonder why after a while
That newly old face is suddenly wreathed with a smile
