‘Too old to love’?

‘Sand Sculpture’ courtesy of Pixabay.com Chance cheating, I tip my toes on the pool floor. Forward frogging, I propel myself onwards. Foam floating into third place, I collect my prize. Proud punching the air, I laugh. Nothing nudging. Until now. Now, forty-one years since. No prize am I for a novel-man of fifty. Bottom bulging,…