Devilish Young Men

Young men are pursuing me,
in my dreams, I am too old
and wily not to recognize
the evil of this intent

wonder if I’m being stalked
by a stroke, or worse –
I wake up, overheated
fling the bedclothes off

as if they are the offending
infiltrators, dismayed to see
how little I have slept, knowing
that the relief will now pass me by

Young men possess a virility
redundant in my life – sexuality
long ago sacrificed on the altar of cancer –
their presence is disconcerting at best

stirring up old emotions, luring me
into nostalgic memories – trickery, I say
to think that masculinity would entertain
intimacy with a mad old hag like me.

(The Daily Post prompt:  entertain.
Image:  Daily Mail)

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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

8 thoughts on “Devilish Young Men”

      1. amazing what happens then, isn’t it? I find it the same! I had a horrific dream last night and it kept repeating returning to the inevitable which was down a hallway with no way out. I ended up there a half dozen times before I could pull out of it. Creepy. I can still see it clearly in my mind’s eye. Your poem evoked exactly what I’d been going through.

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