Though I am old there is a youth in
me
who refuses the advances of time's
dramatic play
and searches the skies for clouds
lazily
drifting by as my thoughts go astray.
How much more knows she than me
what I've forgotten in time, forsook!
Afeared that I won't earn my degree,
cast my soul upon a philosopher's hook.
Now that the clock is running thin
I have picked the lock of eternity's
door.
And what I saw when I peeked in
was the youth in me, free evermore.
She is where I am going, and where I
have been.
The elder in me is just pretend.
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