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Youth (a sonnet)

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Shall all compare youuth to the new born spring,
To the newly sprouted buds of oak trees,
To the sense of liveliness it may bring,
To the arrival of the blue sky as one sees?

Shall it be compared to the scent of a rose?
Attracting all the busy bees from their hives,
Being continuously watered by the gardenrer's hose,
Though it seems like it's famous for its bribes.

Shall I compare it to the streams of the meadow?
Next to once in a lifetime opportunities
Of needed risks being poured out of a bucket,
Beginning to discover their identities.

However, nothing can top it beauty,
And even sometimes its fatigue duty.





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curtis paradis said...
Apr. 12, 2011 at 9:53 am
amazing poem! i love it!
 
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