Age and Flow
If I had to recount a range for pure,
If would be womb to birth to sixteen years.
Aglow with vigor on a virgin shore --
Of first-love hugs and superhuman tears.
Fearless and careless of body and mind,
A known contradiction, a youthful show.
But, age spins quickly to the daily grind --
And, feelings reverse as we age and flow.
Gray and grown with painful inflammation.
Nothing to fear from a senior mind-prism.
Protesting every new deformation --
The paradox of youth versus wisdom.
Young, infinite, bliss, immortality --
Lost in mature, moonless normality.
August 23, 2016
Which Of The Four Would You Choose - Poetry Contest
Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016