Sunday 16 June 2024

Poem: Juvenile

Time the ferocious swindler
That sits ticking on my hand
With every second that passes
Glides along my personable lad.

My Spring days are majestic,
With min friends I remain optimistic, 
of a future that is as young as I,
But soon changes by the hands of time.

Seconds into minutes my hunky appearance dwindle.
I resent the moments of sedentary, for time has saunterd
Into the land of sob and no laughter.
For now I witness fall by the scent of autumn.

And I can't return to the days
Of spring and laughter.
'Tomorrow' lie in the hands of juvenescence
For I wish it could be seen, like time on hand revolve on every hour.

[Israel Xaba: 16 June 2024]

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