The hill crawls with convoys of youth;
slow lights wind round and up
the dark ridges to yet
another passion ledge.
The peak of maturity watches
all that passes. The boulders
are its witness. 'Reverent ripeness,
we are pilgrims of adolescence-
tell us where does the heart
find rest?'

Poetry by yoonoos peerbocus
Read 74 times
Written on 2023-08-22 at 02:40

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