Four into eight – the Silva grail

Premise: A middle aged man confronts his emotional death having lived four of an expected eight decades. The inability to feel as he once did as a younger man. A mysterious, beautiful woman helps him rediscover the potential of life.

Part I:

Four of eight decades rest in the past
So fortunate but how long can this last
I’ve romanced, loved and married
Living a life ever so harried

Raising a family, I’ve worked hard
A successful career achieved without fear
I’ve traveled the globe
Quenching the desire to probe
An unending river, I yearn to learn

I didn’t seek to fail, yet when I did, there wasn’t a wail
So much conflict, I could have done with less
I’ve hated and berated
Later feeling regret

I’ve stood painfully by
As loved ones wait to die
I’ve known more than one vice
Yet four into eight I’ve not paid a high price

Most of all I’ve embraced hope
And a burning wish to leave behind
More smiles than frowns, I hope they find
My lifelong ploy is to bring more joy

Yet four into eight I see my fate
I burn bright and remain true to my dream
Yet things are no longer what they seem
Stripped of feeling
Have I reached the ceiling
Everything too familiar
Where is the adventure
Shriveling memories of a first kiss, holding hands
Never knowing where she stands

Remember staring longingly into each other’s eyes
Wanting to know her thoughts, her lies

Stomach churns, heart aches, lips quiver
Yearning for experiences that once made me shiver
The thrill to compete
The challenge to overcome certain defeat

The adrenaline rush before a speech
Or in standing ready to teach
That biochemical cocktail streaming through a vein
I recall being addicted to this sort of pain
Feelings I no longer feel yet now I’m willing to steal
Four into eight and I fear it’s too late

Part II

Sitting alone in a crowded Manhattan café
Mulling my plight with all my might
Late afternoon, entertaining and cheerful chatter
I check my watch, does anything matter
Another sip of green tea
Just moments before I flee
I foolishly believe the hot tea may thaw feelings within me

There is but one open seat
I fantasize, hoping for a treat
She glides toward me, will I soon be free

Shocking beauty, commanding height
A less confident man would surely take flight
Mesmerized before hello
I wonder how she sees this fellow
Amber eyes framed by long locks of brown
Her face rarely darkened by a frown
Skin of olive, flaws fewer than light

The percussion of her presence is a welcome preamble
She is cool, distant and poised, well worth the gamble
A charming, confident and sovereign soul
Long and lean the ultimum athleta personifying self control

Not three into eight her abundant energy does captivate
Her name is Silva, a Balkan beauty
She has migrated west to become her best
Supremely confident, she has a plan
Inquisitive and independent, she is controlled by no man

Charming and beautiful, she can make her own way
Mysterious and elusive, its hard for her to stay

A long forgotten curiosity overcomes him
He longs to know more, yearning for her personal lore
She delays her trust
Anticipation enhances his desire and lust
He’s just four into eight mired in a mystifying debate
Will the Silva grail mark his trail enabling him to set sail
Oh, a good life, an honest life he may just derail

Her energy, beauty and zeal may allow him to feel
She’s resurrected his yesterdays, yet how many tomorrow’s
It’s never too late, even four into eight