This is the companion poem to Beyond Noesis, a Spock/McCoy story.

Young again

I look at him,
Fifty years since we first met
And he has aged.
His eyes are weak
For long ago, they could spot the smallest flaw on a medical scan
And now he is lucky to see at all.
His body is tired.
For long ago, he was full of youthful vigor and lust for life
And now his movements are those of deliberate care.
His tongue seems to be the only thing not slowed by time.
Long ago, ours was a violent passion,
A tender caress,
A wanting ache,
Now we do not touch at all.
It for us would seem to be a mockery of our former passion.
I know he ashamed.
He hides his swollen fingers from me
And takes pills when he thinks I do not see
But I see everything.
I see the man I love not bent by Time
Nor beaten down by the hand of Destiny.
I see him as he was
As we were.
I approach him with my own slowed steps.
I question.
He assents.
I touch my fingers to his wrinkled forehead

And we are young again.