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Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #1603198
time moves forward, yet I still look back.
Oh, petty youth you inspired me so
To be who I am and not what they sow
Bewitched am I to see what you bestow
A great commodity of wisdom seems apropos

With an aged drink of your brother’s mere tear
My green disposition, once ever so clear
Falls like grace through my compounding fear
And plants the seed for which time turns the gear

A novice am I at mourning such despair
You laugh and cry, but not with great care
Of whom you have forgotten and left beyond repair
Like I, whose legacy was once of pleasure and affair.

Childish glamour and haughty intents relent
To ripened and mature ways which do not circumvent
Though despondent I may feel I am not malcontent
For I know you are still there, and I shall not lament
© Copyright 2009 Joseph Michael Webb (meteofan07 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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