Dust Invisible

Even the most well read young men may never tell you
quite how they discern between the desires of the heart        
and the headier requirements of the soul       
Their world remains an open mind of possibilities        
so why pay heed to the scream of a jay  
or search for its blue wing-bars flashing early        
high in the oaks        
Surely no young blood would ever wish to stop  
and wonder over such badge of treachery        
when the betrayal of age settles dust unseen        
its film invisible a lifetime away         
Even educated young women once raised with servants        
fish knives and doilies        
might imbibe of modernity until it radically dilutes their manners   
but they seldom forget how to spell 'children'        
or lose that word on their tongue's tip        
They do not notice        
not yet        
the click of a crumbling vertebrae
or the weight of a sagging breast       
Young time is easily ladled from a bottomless crock        
it blushes good humoured endearment at a father's odd socks       
shooing away his despairing hunt for misplaced keys        
always eager to concoct some newer fresher thrill        
as yet unshaken by the wasteful roulette of genes       
My child time never listened to the tap of a blind man's stick        
nor understood the true meaning of a gate left open        
when none were ever closed        
although now at least hiking spirits becomes a simple trick     
It takes only the kindness of a lone black cat        
straying its warmth across my path        
to purr at innocence lost or perhaps only the thought        
of one breathless        
impromptu kiss