small world

In this small world where we reside
we keep our hopes and dreams alive

Those past reach for what we strived
laughing loudly where before we cried

Our spirit serves - our chance foretold
by the new age born to those of old

Yet once old (italicised)
one’s a number – bygone - wise

Should one’s wisdom bear one’s time
or measure silly from sublime

Like the leaf turned into flower
creation comes from one’s seminal hour

The flower blooms – her beauty stored
over time becoming flawed

Like old books with yellow pages
They represent our passing phases

Life – it is a curse for some
but when they’ve been belief will come

And wrestle with our youth – so cagey
yet in this small world they’re seen parading