Once Old

by Richard Taylor

I was once old
and ceased to be,
traced my kisses on a stone,
memorials of loving
uncontrolled.

There was no other way,
or let the horrid silence
stare me down and chill the grace
of hugging through the long
and solemn night.

What else could halt the bleeding
from my ears and patch the cut
of years with scant report
or know the inklings of a pulse
that yet ticks on?