Growing Old

One day I shall grow old
Gnarled with memories
Each finger twists a ring
Lady fair sits hair piled gold
Underneath cherubim ceiling.
A mistress cracked and gone to ruin
Like cobwebbed windowpanes
Miss Havisham wet-garlanded with flowers
Smear dust on my forehead
Homage as I sleep
Frail breath to knock away sound
Rivalling the skittering
Feet of patterned children
Empress in her glory
Old splintered splendour
Alliteration of thought
The rose curtains in the dark
Open doors to the sky