That Memory

My teens were lean years: barely did a kiss
Come rattling my way, never mind the trade
Of my hands on her — every girl a maid —
And hers on me. I waited for my bliss
Until my twenties: every shocking miss
Was craving my embrace. My heart obeyed
Their summons, and that memory won't fade,
The serpent's murmur turned into a hiss.

Now I am old, and all my hair is white,
The nights are full of unexpected fears,
The warmest days are garlanded with tears,
My body is no woman's fair delight,
My energy will flag as a long night
Persists, and these are once again lean years.