| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
|
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Experience >> ID #1810964 |
| |||||||||||||
|
In Memory Of In memory of eighteen we yearn to be born again, to become the essence of living memory and carry a renewed message across time undaunted. To accomplish the full agenda of life and use the illusion of youth to spur one on, in a quest for the last bastians of passion and desire before the final curtain is drawn. We then realize the sum of life is in the living for youth is but an illusion and reflection, observed differently in a mirrored pool by each admirer .... gazing into its depths. ![]()
© Copyright 2011 T.L.Finch (UN: t.l.finch at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
T.L.Finch has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |