The Youngsters Are Getting Old


The youngsters are getting old.
Buildings are torn down.
Time is being bold,
upon this town.

Things are changing
and I can't cope.
I lost my cravings
and all my hopes.

Flee with me,
to the end of time.
I promise we
will be in our prime.

I just need to feel it,
if just for a while.
To stay with my wit.
Reality exile.

And then we'll go back
to the realities of our town.
And face up to the black
and confront the comedown.



Poetry by Daybreaker
Read 682 times
Written on 2006-12-23 at 00:50

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Wonderful, compelling, interesting, and well just wonderful. Great write, as usual.

~Kiva
2006-12-23


Zoya Zaidi
*Bookmarked*
2006-12-23


Zoya Zaidi
My dear Dan, you always manage to enthrall me with your originality, all yours!
This is such an uplifting poem, in one sense, because, it says to remain optimistic and young, even if as a deception for a while into the world of fantasy and make belief. A positive poem by you after a long time is such s refreshing change darling friend.
Yeah, we do need to escape sometimes from the harsh realities of Time, to maintain our sanity, our balance, even if to come back and face it (reality of life) again with renewed vigour and courage...
((Hugs))
Merry Christmas!
Love, Zoya
2006-12-23