The Young Heart

How sweet is the taste of life;

The colors, the smells.

They dance and sing, compelling hearts to joy.

Oh young hearts, their whims and clear eyes. 

How certain they are of themselves. 

The wind teaches them to fly,

They soar, and cannot believe they’ll ever fall. 

Oh!  Prideful Fate!

These hearts are not of hate!

But yet, when the trouble befalls them

They sing no more

The colors go black

The wind no longer allows them to soar

And life is no longer sweet

And so the mist overtakes their joy

Because so oft is this trouble self caused.

And their life; Fate’s toy. 

The casket is filled.

The candles are lit.

The eyes will never be clear again.  

This poem is about: 
Our world

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