An object which no man can hold,
For if lost turns bitter cold.
Though when hence found gives warmth to all,
Can you hear the ticking calls?
As the youth change and go,
The laps of seconds moves fast yet slow.
A child is an old fool so gray,
For if use less in work than in play.
If desired the once mine,
It is merely a dream in time.
Let us accept the hours so gold,
and see what it unfolds.
- MakingStories
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Poetic Stand (Completed)
PoetryThis is a Poetry Collection I will be working on for the past weeks or day. Feel free to get ideas from this collection. Please tell your friends about this poem if they are interested in this type of stuff. Thanks!
