"Old enough to be
your father!"  Yes,
I play the cliche out
with wry surprise
at my anxiety
for her response,
but, with peculiar
brightness in her eyes,
she sits up straight
in my heat-crumpled bed,
then bends and kisses.
"Young enough to be
my child," she whispers,
"and, of love, my lover!"
moving upon me
ancient as the sea.
   Robin Skelton.