Some days

I am no longer young.    
Some days, I feel myself melting,    
a sand castle in a rising tide.      
     
Some days, I spy a sign outside my window:       "Beware the Dragon." A clear come on. Yet
my armour’s too heavy; my squires are gone.    
     
Some days, love is just a ripple in a coffee cup.    
Only its steam touches my face.    
With each sip, the bottom becomes more clear.      
     
But some days, though her touch is a struggle,    
I am not without love.      
On these days, I am young again.