Age’s ocean has come t’elude our youth
And wash what divots beget in wrinkle;
As so many forgotten shores uncouth,
And unjust waves raise the surface crinkle.
Old the way we grow in the space-full time,
Ravaged by the Earth’s eternal spectrum,
Opossum’s worst idea, naming cats in rhyme,
Rolled, riveted and rivaled in lustrum;
Impotent on the shady hill waiting,
Petrified, these sundried fruits, tangy-rancid,
Insolent to tinge, change fearing, fading
Peppered in hindrances vulgar and timid;
In come the tides of time with eager lances;
Rip-chord overtures with youthful dances.
