We ran through golden pastures in and out of crystal caverns we were young and full of life. We met the future head on were bumped and bruised dealt out a few even to those we loved. Now those fields lie arid and brown crystal caverns dank and cold as we plod on fearful of the future. There's only so little time there's only so much rhyme to recover the we that we were. But we'll meet it head on we have to stay strong to make the future the past. And when we do just we two will run through golden pastures in and out of crystal caverns. Until time dares to end and we look at each other and say, goodnight, my friend.
Veteran of old My Poetry Forum before its hiatus. Happy to be back.
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