Fruitless Trees Permeate the Sea
The rhythm of my heart is no rival
For the movement of your wandering eye.
Her lithe figure signals her arrival
My cadence lulls, watching, undignified
For my love is not enough to match youth
And his heart is so fickle in its ways.
With age, one becomes unwanted, in truth,
The realization embed me in a daze.
Yet, youth, for its beauty does not have wisdom.
Time passes and people grow older, it’s
Not a crime of nature, but a schism
Of naivete and cynicism outfits.
We are not victims of time, just merely
Bystanders in the face of austerity.
This poem is about:
Our world
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