Late Arrival

Late Arrival

I boarded the train
that would take me
to the fountain of youth.
What had eluded

Ponce de Leon
would not hedge
my artful eye.
One ticket - one way -

yes, of course one way.
What fool would return
from the pool's youthful edge
I was sure to find

at the line's demise.
And just in time.
Look at the creases
around her lips,

they've been saying,
And have you noticed
you have to tell her
something three times

before she gets it.
I'm riding the
midnight express
to the caress of youth

that evaded me
in its moment.
The body I saw
as misshapen then

will be stunning
further along the track.
The vision
that escaped in halcyon

visits me now.
I see the acorn
uncomfortable with its shape
as it strives for oakness,

and the oak as it longs for
its youthful seed.
The trip is long,
and my serenity is a surprise

as the engine stalls
along the rails
and wails for energy
to make the bend.