Buds of Youth

Their hands outstretched in the unsung zeal,
Of our warm clasp, so sweaty and so real.
The kind of clasp which speaks of love, of certain

Knowledge a young mind cannot begin to know,
And yet does know to ask of those taller, though
Not always sure of even its young question.

Youth takes as known the answer for swallowing,
With trusting smile, a smile so enchanting
As to wash all doubt from the worn panting,

Which dogs adults in our mad efforts planting,
Control and conscience for these small starts,
And washes us in blooms of their fragrant, hungry hearts.

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About Pitboss14

Cosmic surfer of paradoxes.
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