Remember the feelings of being young
The times that last always in me
no school, no books, or responsibilities
An endless elation lasting an eternity
unlike our days soon retiring into night
as atramentous as the black top
boisterous afternoons and Saturday morning cartoons
kickballs games in the blazing sun
or frigid games of tag in a blanket of snow
when chickenpox and colds meant certain death
and so did girls (cause they were icky)
Always wishing my youth was an epoch
The extent of our youth is the fervor of our heart
because youth is bliss
Youth is the angel that follows you
Maturity is that burly ebony behemoth
and as it fixates its raven eyes upon me
I will look away and gaze upon my youth
scuttle to it and embrace it tightly
clinging to my youth
...
forever