As I walk the memory lane, nude

I see so many souls 

Desiring to have my flesh 

They go lengths

Some with their lofty words

Some with youthful vigour 

And some with their seemingly distinguished presence

Their purpose remains the same

Just a piece of my flesh

To caress their male pride

I view these empty souls with disdain

Where is the sanctity of feelings

Where is grace in their thirst 

A few jerks 

And they are done 

The male pride rests for a while

But rises again

For another nubile or seasoned deer

I saunter the memory lane in solitude

I see scavengers all around me

Ready to pounce on any

I remain oblivious 

For I am towards the end of my journey.

©LR