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.