The veil of youth is a door,

or many doors where summer

flourished all year in warmth.

Games were fields of testing

strength and speed, fight and spit.

We possessed joints of steel and

muscles with stretch;

no mountain was too great.

Arms were machines and legs

springboards. The soul laughed at

death and scorned at storms.

We were buildings. Engines in

sneakers. Boilers for chests. The

seasons pushed through with little affect.


Youth we thought, was the armor to

Defeat time.


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