Posted in Poetry, writing

Eternal youth

In a forest we sit

Spinning tales of a future

Woven through with dreams borne

Of eternal youth.

 

Older we grow

As time escapes us

Dreams drift away

Displaced by truth.

 

Our kids growing up

No more little toddlers

To find long lost dreams

May need a sleuth.

 

But wait, why defeatist?

We all have each other

Our family the meaning

Of eternal youth.

© Ron Buedefeldt  November 27, 2007

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