You found me with my smooth dark brown eyes
and marveled at my lithesome thighs.
You then began to analyze
the protocol of my demise.
You filtered through my hair of black, now brown,
then left ot graying at the crown.
You dulled my vibrant, eager thoughts
and left my senses tied in knots.
You placed your wrath within my spine
and caused my stature to decline.
You took me from my supple skin
where dewy moisture once had been.
My sight is slowly growing dim
You devastate upon a whim.
The years I've left are very few
No longer crisp or firm or new.
But you can only scathe my flesh
Inside my spirit's young and fresh.
Of mortal things you have control
but you cannot decay my soul.
