Naive Seventeen

When you sung songs of naïve seventeen No chord was struck, nor one thought rewritten For love so young, surely, it was extreme And left small hearts yet deceived and broken For hope of love shrouded in the naïve— No thought, I had, of such hope striking me Yet now, I feel, if I dare to believe That hope like such can sweet and thrilling be. Hope, so dumb, how dare it be so honeyed? For though it scares me, hearts that pound too fast, Perhaps I can learn to enjoy that speed? I know these foolish heart beats may not last As dazzling sheen lasts not on jewelry— Though, what will last longer than poetry?