#31 - notes towards the young

Friday 31^st January 31, 2020

31

notes towards the young

with whom beauty aches

unclued as to direction

bitten and yet to itch

made bleak with much must

and yet to, chained likewise

to a destiny, though this

cannot be known, up in

one another’s skins

each mainly to own little world

and far to see through shaping light

unfrittered though, both ends at

holding candle to a phrase

climb, mostly self-inflicted

and here comes a chopper

fresh as roses, a rage with all the hours

at, again survived the miracle

no time to tell their tale

their sleeps are forever

up a tree and in a hole

a wail with little woes

world’s serious with them

of so few parts, ill fitting

in the mirror shrunk

from what we see

the young are preyed upon for virtues

unaware, innocence foremost

drunk on becoming, the monuments

of generation, a flurry of insensible

the pigeon park all plays around

soon they will remember when

at their old caution of wash

won’t feel the grip of time

first hearing it, but drown

they are a charm themselves

and take a pill, who knows?

truth stands up straight

just as it find them

so quick with the thing to learn

still flit, and fleet of heart

at home they can’t have built

seasons of fiddle and still they survive

it is a garden of them

they fly to the light

and burn