Sky and Harry just saw a film about a 65 year old man and a 35 year old woman falling in love. The film’s light and doesn’t make bones about the concept. It’s quite simply a love story about a cantankerous old man and a plain speaking woman. Sky particularly was convinced with the line that the female protagonist speaks – that she can’t help it if men are taking 65 years to match her mentally and in maturity. Heh.
Harry has forever said that with the way they are India and she can only expect an old man. India is very careful about saying older and not old.
Well in honour of that sentiment, here’s a poem that she wrote quite a while ago. There are some water stains on the paper so I’m missing some lines in the middle but you’ll get the idea.
I met a man in a glade once,
He smelt old like the oldest tree and looked beaten like the weathered breeze,
I longed to touch his spare, lived face and feel his enough hands on me.
But I was young and he was not
And all that met were our eyes.
The wood smoke cleared as he looked at me,
My breath caught fire instead.
And still he moved and I stood still,
Uncaring to break the spell.
(Water marks… something about how age knows things youth fears. How age is willing to take risks and live while youth is playing safe.) (then…
But I was gaunt and he was full
And all that met were our eyes.
There are some threesomes you should be a part of.
