THE HEART IS BUT A CHILD
They insist the innocence within is lost with age I beg to differ that it’s only captive in a mere cage The once optimistic eyes now wasted in despair It’s a dynamic journey from a crib to an armchair Rose-colored glasses were replaced to correct faulty vision Once agile shape turned to withering relic after the transition Albeit the heart and soul revert to the gleeful young years We were greeted and will be sent off by loved ones in tears