Your youth stays so long with you,
You grow out certain things and wardrobe,
But style bends to old character.
And we all know
Just a perfect sense from a certain book
As fleeting as midnight dreams
And as when you took your first lovers hand.
We have broken interiors
Which some detail in full oratory of mouth
And others leave for dying leaves at the cemetary.
There's always that fond togetherness.
That some years tell more than others,
It's true
Because forgetfulness lives near the truth tellers
But are often lonely
Because the forgetful live nearest these tellers
But reign in loneliness.
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