Wrinkles

Wrinkles were once just crinkles      
Before time sought to see them creased      
And we only seem to think along      
The simple borders of delusion      
When all we had to to live for      
Did not slow before they ceased      
     
But  
Ive recovered      
In this pile of pine      
Draped with what once was      
Baptized in all that is      
Small needles itching through the wine    
As these moments softly greet      
The mornings gentle tamperings      
Tickle along my waysides      
Red as they entreat      
     
Now I am the true collector      
And I deal in circumstance      
All too used to being overlooked      
Whilst waiting for some chance      
To overshadow and undo      
All that there is      
And it begs me      
Pleading please      
Just let me recover from you