The perfume of youth
01/15 2024
The perfume of youth passing by in a crying fall.
Passersby holler and yoller and shout, however small.
Who really is it that protests the coo of a bird in flight?
Who does so honestly without calling that in the mirror a blight?
Sometimes, I've attempted to capture him in my mercury cage,
But once he escaped he's lost in the oceans of paragraphs on my page.
Wherein does he hide? Wherein does he call me
As I sit and listen to the waves crashing against the shores and be
Surprised at his wisdom, which always is lost once the ink dries.
Look out there in the distance, look towards that bird, how it flies.