small world

In this small world where we reside

we keep our hopes and dreams alive

Those past reach for what we strived

laughing loudly where before we cried

Our spirit serves – our chance foretold

by the new age born to those of old

Yet once old (italicised)

one’s a number – bygone – wise

Should one’s wisdom bear one’s time

or measure silly from sublime

Like the leaf turned into flower

creation comes from one’s seminal hour

The flower blooms – her beauty stored

over time becoming flawed

Like old books with yellow pages

They represent our passing phases

Life – it is a curse for some

but when they’ve been belief will come

And wrestle with our youth – so cagey

yet in this small world they’re seen – parading

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