AGEING CASANOVA

Late teens

I had come out in pubic curls
when starting to discover girls
whose own bodies were shaping up
and chests ready for the bra cup.
Chat ups to get to know them more,
while mind's eye sees them in the raw,
anticipating what I'd see
when I shed my virginity.

Twenties/thirties/forties

Those parts of me would so up-warm
at sight of naked female form,
when a woman seductively
would let me see her whole body
as we prepared to go to bed
to which the shared desire had led,
concluding with rampant action
to mutual satisfaction.

Sixties

Now 'getting hard' is getting hard
to achieve in one's own backyard;
the heart does not sufficient beat
to make an erection complete.
I wonder, is it nature's way
of telling me, "Call it a day!
Leave the younger men to seduce
the women, let them reproduce."

Seventies

How many women my now-age
In this would want to engage,
If their own body confidence
has taken bit too many dents,
as once-perky bits downward sag,
and torso's like a fleshy bag?
Would younger women go to bed
with me if they saw ME naked?

Eighties and older

Are the playing days now over
for this self-styled Casanova,
who liked the challenge of the chase
ending up with "your or my place"?
Now my health is not so well rude
for amatory interlude,
The only female touch to come
be a carer wiping my bum,

Now a shadow of my old self,
declining faculties and health
have clipped my wings and libido.
What I see my feet cannot go;
and if I could, such an approach
would get a brushing-off reproach;
my interest, judgementally,
being blamed on senility.