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Youth, oh youth, not then, but now so cherished.
An album full of memories nevermore to perish.

Imaginings of deeds, some perhaps truthful fact,
enlarged with iteration. Memories are like that.

None could later live as in youthful bygone days.
None will recall those times in quite the same ways.

We were always reaching, reaching far.
Each had an inner need to light up our own star

Never to possess again the innocence then shared,
those bold times when so little went un-dared.

We did things then, somehow, with innocence supreme,
adults would never dare. But, then we lived a dream.

To look back on that youth with fair, fond recollections,
I see the folly practiced by youthful good intentions.

Youth, oh youth—tragic, demands this past soliloquy.
Wearing adult disguise, we are survivors — you and me.


By The_Pip2

© 2019 The_Pip2 (All rights reserved)


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