What Can We Know

What can we know when we are young
With hearts so frail and nights so long
And heads that turn with every scent
To blush and bow though still relent

What can we know come middle ground
When hearts are full and secrets found
Then busy, busy love's time lost
And then reflect but at what cost

What can we know when we are old
When hearts they beat but oh so cold
And eyes still turn with every year
But reasons now, a different tear

What can we know when we are gone
And in that place reflect upon
Hearts' affection remains, above
For nothing changes, age and love

©2004 Hey Hey

Bravisssssssssssssimo Sir!

I thank you, dear Enki.

nice writing

you are quite productive hey hey

You are blooming from a good poet into a great one, my friend; you are taking your poetry seriously now, putting your whole heart into it, giving it your all, and we see the result, we reap the reward.

You have no limitation on your poetry. You can be as good--as great--a poet as you care and as you dare to be. I am quite serious when I say this: you can do it, if you will (and you are).

I am proud of you, my dear friend! Congratulations for the breakthrough which you are experiencing. This same thing has happened to me, and it feels good, doesn't it? It's a feeling of exhilaration, a liberating sort of feeling like sticking your head out the window of the car when you are a child and feeling the wind rush past you and in your face.

Bloom, bloom, bloom; that's my advice.

Thanks to you too Gattaca.

Dear Steven

Your words are an inspiration and I am complimented indeed.

Hey Hey