Like a rose bud,
our lives stretch
out towards the
sun, giver of life.
We believe we are
beautiful; forever
young and majestic.
Soon we realise
that what we were
is not what we are!
Our tiny minds
create a powerful
illusion of eternity,
a picture of infinity.
We are immortal!
We are magnificent!
We are the essence
of perfection.
We believe to be the artist
and artefact of our
destiny.
Forever fresh!
Forever young!
Forever….
Our minds maintain
that image, but our bodies
fade away . Our youth
crumbles under
the merciless impact of time.
Hence we are no more!
-
Author:
Carmine Branco (
Offline) - Published: July 17th, 2017 17:01
- Comment from author about the poem: Finished writting by me the 3rd of July 2017 , it is my second attempt in publishing in English. My first official English poem is published on another italian poetry site.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 42
Offline)
Comments3
Bravo! Very well done.
Thank you very much.
Thank you. Happy to be here. I appreciate it very much.
yes it feels as though we must be perfect when we go outside. so we put on the mask. then when we return home the mask comes off.
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