Too Late

If, in ten years, you should come to me, broken, Your following relationships failed, your Thighs bloated with cellulite, your cheeks fattened, your spouse Uncaring; if then you should tell me You wished you had given yourself to Me, that night, all those years ago, when Sitting on a couch I had touched your cheek; if The emptiness of all these years is what it has taken To make you wise, to open your Eyes to what you really want; if in Dreams between then and now, you have known Your real desire; if it is now, in your diminished Beauty and heightened knowing that you wish to give yourself to me, Then know: know that it was not your beauty That I wanted, nor now your wisdom: I craved Compassion, expressed in tender touch: the very thing your years Will not let me offer now.