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

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