I rediscovered this poem today. I don't remember quite when I wrote it, or why I haven't already posted it on here, because when I found it again I realized that I really like it. Hopefully you will too.
Where does youth go when it leaves?
Age is a creeping and steady corruption,
Escaped by none
Despite all our grasping
At all that we are,
That we were,
That we see slip away.
Or one day awake
And truly, then, see
And regret.
For what’s to be done
When it’s gone?
And where does youth go when it leaves?
No comments:
Post a Comment