Ageless Amour

Knowing the pelvis frail, he thrust
at a slower pace so not to break or bruise.

He once hospitalised old Lady Agatha,
his only surviving patron, after she demanded
her antique legs be lifted up onto his shoulders,
while he penetrated with aplomb.

She said it was the most exhilarating birthday
she had had since she ate partridge with a Dame.

She recovered in a private hospital bed, and once
rejuvenated, moved him into her stylish vacant annex
for erotic servicing, her libido still wild and youthful.

Her favourite setting for their vigorous sex
was under the silver birches in her botanical garden.

He spent the next six months fulfilling
her most exotic and daring desires
until she died of a heart attack:

it occurred one day while they picked Cox’s,
recently bloomed, off thick branches
located throughout her impressive estate;
as she collapsed he kissed her wrinkled lips.

A chorus of robins sang a wistful eulogy
on the failure of organs, companionship.

The half-dead, half living sculpture of the two
enhanced the grandeur of the open field.