The flesh had a poreless sheen and rosy color,
A flash of innocence, unselfconsciously available.
“There’s nothing like young skin,” he said.
Devoid of broken vessels, scars, uniformly plump,
And sun-scented like apricots at the moment of ripeness.
“Buy me another drink,” she said.
“There’s nothing like youth,” he said laying down a twenty.
(image courtesy of picjumbo.com)
Source: The Color and Smell of Aging