Roots of the Young

Remembering when this first started
Even before the day we parted
When a heart was young and tender
No need to be the best pretender
When smiles and laughter brought us pleasure
When we relied on heavenly treasure
Faith so big one cannot hide
Now not so sure, consumed by pride
Sitting and wondering thinking about
The questions no man can figure out.
When being Yourself was the best one could be
Life was adventure, imagination flew free,
But those days are gone as older we get
Memories fade, we begin to forget
The old fun times, the most wonderful places
Gone in a blank, now meeting new faces
And those are the years we can never regain
Life without troubles, life without pain
We’re just a story that’s yet to be told
Smiling and crying while growing old.

October 10, 2011
4:41pm
youth

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Author: © Алёна Комарова (Alëna S.)

Stories grow old and maybe they're true. You have a story as well as I do. Some may be simple and some may change lives. So why don't you look and see what you'll find. These are the stories inside my mind. Which may be realities of beauty and time. Some maybe stories of other lives. Mysteries painted, not all disguised. Please rate and enjoy my own little blog. Keep your dreams alive and don't forget to look. Honesty's good but don't be too hard of a critic. Say what you'd like 'cause I sure would love to hear it! E S T A B L I S H E D • 2 0 0 9

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