Ah, young man,
I would not hear you witless speak
of that which you consider rare
or name beautiful.
Your eyes merely witness
the brief threads of erotic grace,
pleasant, desirable, but empty
of that which feeds the soul.
Now, mistake me not,
cherish that which youth provides,
fair and supple skin,
wistful days and endless nights,
but lay claim to what runs deep,
seek out the root of love,
the hand you will hold
when lights dim and time is short.