To Be Young And Leaving Town


To be young and leaving town.

A new wind’s freshness blowing

convictions that the past can’t stop

the budding of your growth.

Supple truths shape you anew,

Pliant with made friends and lovers.

You have made room with an eager discarding

Of bets hedged, dice blindly thrown,

Sorrows dustily stowed in yesterday’s loft.

But old leaves have a habit of sprouting

In your untended garden.

2 thoughts on “To Be Young And Leaving Town

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