The shutters flip and flap
during the youth of time.
Dreams twist and twirl
and settle into the youthfulness
of a playful mind.
The seasons rally
into a purpose,
a direction,
a stand of what will be
inside weathered reflections,
but are then lost,
gone out to reality.
Changing,
rearranging,
a true self will appear.
Selfish triumphs build and sway
into unenlightened reflections
in a bewildering display.
So, hail to the gods that are so near,
holding close
youthful memories that
are so clear.