#2089-Renew

On days,

When I feel the years,

Have long passed me by,

And youth is but a memory,

Slowly fading in the past,

I stare at fresh blooms,

In the early morning hours,

When the world is asleep,

As thoughts erratically leap,

In search of deserted islands,

Filled with nothing but peace.

It is those fresh petals,

Silently looking up,

That bring me hope.

For if I can find that peace,

I will be like them,

Youthful, serene, free.